


Last Man Standing

by Mijan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Invisibility, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-27
Updated: 2012-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:18:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mijan/pseuds/Mijan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the war dragging on, and a miserable late-winter storm raging outside Twelve Grimmauld Place, Harry needs a distraction.  However, he quickly finds that he's a distraction for somebody else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Man Standing

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a Merry Smutmas fic for SilentAuror in 2006. It doesn't account for Deathly Hallows canon.

 

The frigid winter had softened just slightly into the beginnings of a raw, clammy spring.  Despite the multiple fireplaces that Dobby was keeping religiously stoked, and the warming and Anti-Draft charms in every corner of Twelve Grimmauld Place, it still felt cold to Harry.  He had spent too many long nights in the house's small library with Hermione, pouring over old books and scrolls, and too many days following leads to dead ends in his obsessive search for the Horcruxes.  Today, icy sleet was coming down in buckets, and with nothing else to do for the moment except wait for Remus's return for the meeting that evening, he'd spent the day trying to rest for the first time in weeks.  He was so tired some days, he knew that if he stopped, even for a moment, he might not find the energy to begin moving again.  Just like what that Muggle scientist had said about objects in motion staying in motion, yada, yada, yada.  But rest didn't seem to come easily, either. 

Even under his blankets at night, Harry felt the awful chill that seemed to follow him around constantly.  He suspected that it had less to do with climate, and more to do with Voldemort's presence that seemed to cling to him.  Nobody else appeared to notice it.  Ron said he needed to relax once in a while and play a game of chess by the fire.  Hermione suggested that he was depressed and could use a good night of sleep and some St. John's Wort.  Ginny said he needed a reality check.  Luna said he needed to get laid, in so many words.

Harry sighed miserably, thinking of Luna's words of wisdom, and then of Ginny – the latest in his limited series of failed experiments in relationships with girls.  He shook his head slowly as he sat on the edge of his bed to tie the laces of his trainers. 

His brief fling with Ginny back at the end of sixth year had been easy enough to drop at the time.  Harry's convenient excuse had been the war, and it was more than fair; he really didn't have time to carve out anything resembling a relationship everything else going on.  However, over the autumn, he'd come to realize yet another reason why he might have been willing to let go of the budding relationship so easily.  It wasn't that he didn't like girls.  He just liked blokes, too.  A lot.  At least, there was a very strong fascination there.  The fascination became a fixation, and having even less experience with blokes than with girls, Harry became secretly obsessed with them.  Distressingly, he just couldn't get up the nerve to do anything about his obsession.  Well, he couldn't get up the nerve, but that didn't stop something else.  

Ginny hadn't been too pleased to intercept the delivery owl carrying the first issue of his subscription to "The Wizard's Wizard."  Admittedly, he'd barely had time to look at the magazines since then, and they'd just accumulated under his bed.  But also, if he read the magazines, that meant he really did like blokes, and he wasn't sure if he was quite ready to completely accept that.  And he definitely wasn't ready to tell the world.  It was bad enough that Ginny knew, and worse that she wasn't the only one.

Ginny had been the one to find the magazines, but someone else had managed to figure it out without any blatant clues: Luna Lovegood.  In the months since then, Luna had been dropping not-so-subtle hints about eligible bachelors.  It was sometimes quite disconcerting to be listening to Luna rattle on about the nest of Glibbing Pipperells in the basement, and then suddenly hearing her mention that she'd heard Seamus Finnegan was gay and single.  Or for her to ask if he wanted her to look for prospects more close at hand.  It was a nice sentiment, if he were ready for such a thing.  But even if he were, there weren't too many such prospects to be had around the place he now called home. 

If he were at Hogwarts, he might have been able to explore this new facet of himself… if he suddenly became bold enough… and if he found someone he trusted not to tip off Rita Skeeter.  There had been plenty of blokes around Hogwarts, and despite it being a boarding school, the social structure was nowhere near as small and closed as it was at Grimmauld Place.  But that wasn't an option right now.  Hogwarts had been closed.

The loss of the Headmaster had been the final straw.  The Board of Governors had been thrown into disarray as the Death Eaters amongst them had been revealed, and when the remaining members of the Board had reconvened in August, they decided that the school's recent history of dangerous occurrences was reason enough to shut it down "until further notice".  So, for the first time in a thousand years, the halls of Hogwarts were silent as September came and passed. 

Harry missed Hogwarts immensely.  The school was more of a home to him than this chilly old house would ever be, but there were things far more important right now than that.  The sense of urgency that had been sparked by the events of the previous spring hadn't faded, and Harry had thrown himself into the fight; body, mind, and soul.  It was certainly taking a toll on him.  He heard his joints pop and squeak as he stood and walked to his bureau.  He was too young for this, he knew, but he was starting to suspect it wasn't the age, but the mileage. 

"You look a fright today, dear." 

And he definitely needed to get rid of that damn mirror.  Tomorrow.

He quickly pulled a sweatshirt over his head, straightened his glasses, and hurried out of his bedroom.  It was time for the weekly Order meeting, and Remus had just returned from the Werewolves' stronghold.  Hopefully, with a new lead.

The stairs creaked as loudly as his joints as he made his way down to the second floor.  Just one of the familiar sounds of this temporary refuge he tried to call a home.

"Hey, Harry."  Fred nudged him with an elbow as he fell into step on Harry's left.  George quickly picked up stride on Harry's right. 

"Oh, hi Fred, hi George.  Didn't see you guys coming."

"Really Harry," George said with a wink.  "Don't you remember –"

"- 'Constant vigilance!'" Fred finished for him.

Harry shrugged as they turned the corner to the flight of stairs leading to the first floor.

George grinned.  "Besides, with the way these stairs squeak, you should have heard us coming a mile away."

Again, Harry shrugged.

Fred appeared thoughtful.  "Sometimes all the wood needs is a good rubdown with some lube."

Harry choked.  Tripped.  Fell forward and stumbled awkwardly down the last four steps and grabbed the post at the end of the railing just enough to spin himself around before landing hard on his arse.

"HARRY!"  Both Fred and George were there in a heartbeat, helping him to his feet.  Fred began dusting him off.  "Careful there, mate.  Can't go leaving dents in the banister."

George nodded in agreement, the cocked his head.  "Eight-point-five for degree of difficulty, but you really need to stick the dismount."

Harry was too busy trying to catch his breath to say anything but a winded, "Thanks."

"You're quite welcome, Harry.  Anything we can do for you, you know."  Fred clapped him heartily on the shoulder, causing Harry to wince.  Fred didn't seem to notice. 

"What are you two doing to Harry?" Ron hollered from the top of the stairs as accusingly as possible. 

"Why nothing, dearest brother, flesh of our flesh!"  George grinned and leaned jauntily on Harry.

Without slowing down, Ron barged between the twins, grabbed Harry by the sleeve, and yanked him along.  "I swear," Ron grumbled, "With those two maniacs around, You-Know-Who won't have much of a job left of you."

The twins quickly caught up.  "You know we'd never hurt Harry," George said imploringly.

"Unless he wanted us to," Fred interjected.

Harry bit his tongue.  By the time they entered the kitchen, he was feeling distinctly hot around the collar, and he quickly separated himself from Ron's grasp and took the nearest seat.  Ron took the seat to his right and glared across the table at the twins as they settled themselves directly opposite Harry.  They didn't have much time to cause any further trouble as Mrs. Weasley bustled in from the pantry carrying a small tray of biscuits for the meeting.  Then, the rest of the attendees began to filter in.

Remus arrived first, still wet from walking from the Apparition point to the front door, followed shortly by Tonks.  Hermione and Ginny arrived together, and then Bill Weasley who was engaged in a lively conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt, with Fleur following close behind.  Luna wandered in, carrying a small box that seemed to have tapping and chittering sounds coming from it.  Then came Arthur Weasley, Mad Eye Moody, Neville Longbottom, and finally, a face that Harry still wasn't used to seeing in civil company. 

Draco Malfoy.

*********

 

The meeting hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped.  Remus had managed to get the scroll from the Werewolves' leader, but instead of containing direct information about the Horcrux he'd thought they were guarding, it was a reference to a cursed dagger that Voldemort had used to protect this Horcrux.  The information would help planning their search and possible attack, but it still didn't give them a location, or even the identity of the Horcrux itself. 

Arthur Weasley had presented a new list of Ministry insiders who were now covering for Order activities.  More help, but no solutions.  Scrimgeour still refused to collaborate.  In fact, he staunchly denied the existence of the Order of the Phoenix as anything more than a nuisance fringe group.

To be fair, the only real lead they'd received since Dumbledore's death had come from Draco Malfoy.  Harry still felt uncomfortable having him there, but when he'd come to Harry last July – not to the Order, but to Harry – begging for sanctuary in exchange for information about one of the Horcruxes, Harry's guilt over the _Sectusempra_ incident and his desperation for information about the Horcruxes had led him to make a deal with Draco.

_"Why did you come to me?"  Harry's question was guarded, but completely neutral, open to any answer._

_"Because… Snape told me that you were up there… on the tower.  You saw Dumbledore offer me safety.  You were the only other person who did.  Nobody else would have believed me, or given me a chance."  Malfoy's answer seemed honest._

_"I haven't said I believe you yet."_

_"But you're giving me a chance… at least… to make my case."_

_Harry frowned and pushed on to the next question.  "So why would **Snape** send you to me?"_

_"Because he swore to protect me, and that was the only way he could.  By sending me to you."_

_"But he killed Dumbledore.  He betrayed all of us.  So, how do I know he's not setting the Order up for a trap?"_

_"You don't.  Except by my word."_

_"How do I know we can trust you?"_ _Harry had asked flatly, folding his arms across his chest._

_"Because if I give you bad information, you and yours will stop protecting me, and frankly, Potter, I don't have a death wish."_

_"And how do you know you can trust us not to hand you over the second your information stops becoming useful?"_

_At that, for the first time since the tense meeting had begun, Harry saw a hint of a smirk tug at the corner of Draco's mouth.  "Because you're a Gryffindor."  The smirk disappeared again and his face became dead serious.  "And because… I don't intend to stop being useful.  But… to start… here."  And Draco held out a scroll of parchment sealed with green wax._

_Harry reached out and took the scroll._

And Draco's information had been authentic.  The Horcrux in question, Helga Hufflepuff's cup, had been located and destroyed because of the information Draco had provided. 

Since then, Draco had contributed what he could, but had otherwise kept to himself.  It was the most that Harry could have expected out of him.  But he was still an arse.  Prat.  Bastard.  Ferret.  But he was a ferret who volunteered to do any work he could that didn't expose him directly to the public eye.  He had spent long nights pouring over scrolls, too.  And when Harry had Portkeyed back to Grimmauld Place, injured by a Cutting Hex while following a bad lead last October, Draco had been the one to hold the towel against the gaping wound while Hermione ran to get help.  It was more than Harry had done for Draco, and he'd yet to thank him.  And tonight, Draco had sat quietly through the entire meeting, like always, looking stoic yet thoughtful.

Every so often during the meeting, Harry had glanced over at Draco, and for a brief instant, Harry would swear that Draco had been watching him.  But he could never really catch him.  It was strange, seeing as Draco hardly ever spoke to him except in passing, and then, it was always just business.

In direct contrast to Draco, however, were the twins.  No fewer than a dozen times during the meeting, Harry caught them giving him looks that sent uncontrolled tremors down his spine.  He'd seen hungry first-year students at the Welcome Feast look at puddings like that.  Ron asked Harry twice if he felt ill, to which Harry just shook his head.  Not ill.  Just nervous.

When Arthur called the meeting to an official close and everyone dispersed, Harry made a beeline to Ginny and caught her just as she was going out the door.

She gave him a pointed look.  "Yes, Harry?"

Harry kept his face straight.  "I need to talk to you.  Now."

She folded her arms across her chest, but then turned to Neville.  "I'll be right along."

Neville just nodded and continued to help Mrs. Weasley clear the table. 

Not wanting to deal with this any longer than necessary, Harry stalked out of the kitchen, making sure that he heard Ginny's footsteps behind him.  The parlour didn't have a door, but Harry tucked around the corner of the wall and waited until Ginny had come fully into the room to face her.

"What did you tell them?"

She frowned.  "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Listen, you saw the magazines, and you can think whatever you want, but…"  He dropped his voice to a harsh whisper.  " _What did you tell Fred and George_?"

She blew out a sharp breath in exasperation.  "Absolutely nothing, if you must know."

Harry folded his arms across his chest.  "And you expect me to believe that?"

Ginny glared at him.  "Harry, I don't care if you want to tango with trolls.  Your sex life –"

Harry cringed.

"– is your own business, and regardless of anything else, I'm not going to go around spreading your secrets to the rest of the world."

"I don't care about the rest of the world!  I want to know how the twins found out… found out about… _you know what I mean_!"

Ginny shook her head and held up her hands.  "Sorry, Harry.  Not me.  You're on your own for this one."  And with that, she turned and strode out the door.

Harry watched her go, irritated, but also considering that she might not have been the culprit.  But Luna… Luna wouldn't say something to someone else, would she?  As spacey as she could be, she was good at keeping promises, and she'd sworn she wouldn't tell anyone yet.  He sighed and softly thudded his head sideways against the wall.  Perhaps it was best if he found Luna and asked her.  Just in case, of course. 

Grumbling to himself, he squared his shoulders and followed Ginny's path out of the parlour.  Upon exiting, however, he found the hallway blocked.  Or, more specifically, he ran directly into Luna, who was standing right by the doorway, waiting for him to come out.

"Oh, Harry!  I hope you don't mind that I followed you, but I have some good news!"

_Spare me.  Someone Avada Kedavra me right now, and spare me_.  Trying to ignore the sinking sensation in his gut, he put on what he hoped was a friendly smile.  "What's the good news?"

"I think I might have found you just the thing you've needed!"

The sinking feeling identified itself promptly as a large lump of lead.  Harry asked, "Not a blimpy peppering, is it?"

"It's a Glibbing Pipperell, Harry, and I already told you that they don't bond well with males, so it would be a bad pet for you."  She glanced down fondly at the small box she was still carrying.  Now, the chittering sound was accompanied by a scratching noise, and Harry was quite glad Luna didn't think it would like boys.

"Then… what is it?"  Harry ventured.

"I've found someone here who is looking for the same thing as you," she said happily.

"Let me guess," Harry said coldly.  "It's actually two people, and it happens to be Fred and George."

To Harry's dismay, Luna actually seemed thrilled.  "That's exactly what I was hoping to hear!  You see, gaydar is not the myth that many people suspect it to be.  I've been trying to explain this to a penpal of mine who considers –".

"Luna, did you tell Fred and George about me?" Harry said in a rush.

"Of course not, Harry," Luna said. 

Knowing there had to be more to this, Harry quickly rephrased the question.  "Okay, what _did_ you tell them?  Anything that has to do with gay wizards?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Actually, they were asking me if I knew any single boys who had interest in the same."

_That_ hit Harry like an elbow to the gut.  "Whaaaa?  But… Fred definitely like girls.  He dated Angelina!  And George… well… if Fred likes girls, wouldn't George like them, too?  I mean, they're identical twins, right?"

Luna cocked her head.  "They said something about wanting to experiment."

"Ex-experiment?"  Harry blinked.  "What do I look like?  A lab rat?"

"No," Luna said, sounding confused.  "Why would you look like a rat?  You're not thinking of becoming an Animagus, are you?"

"I… never mind, Luna.  What did you tell them?  Did you tell them that I… I… oh Merlin.  You know what I mean!"

"'Gay' isn't a dirty word, Harry."

Harry practically felt himself blanch.  "Just tell me what you told them!"

Luna frowned.  "I just told them that there was at least one single boy around here who might have interest in the same."

"But there are only…"  Harry counted quickly in his head.  _Me, Ron, Neville, and… well, there's Draco._   "Four blokes our age.  They know Ron isn't an option, Neville is dating Ginny, and they wouldn't touch Malfoy with a ten-foot pole."

"That's almost exactly what they said!  I think they mentioned something about contracting Ferretitis.  I told them I didn't think that was an actual disease, but I'd have to ask my father to contact his great aunt.  She studies exotic animal diseases that transfer to humans, and this might be in her field of expertise."

Harry groaned.  "Thanks, Luna.  Thanks a whole lot."

"You're welcome, Harry!  I promise, if Aunt Ester has any important information about Ferretitis, I'll let you know right away."  She turned around to go, but as she reached the end of the hall, she turned back and said over her shoulder, "And in the meantime, now you have a way to get laid!  It would be very healthy for you, Harry."

For the second time that evening, Harry choked.  Oblivious as ever, Luna waved, and hurried up the stairs.  With a growing ache in his temples, Harry walked over to the window at the end of the hall and leaned his forehead against the cold glass.  On the other side of the pane, the ice and rain were still pounding mercilessly through the darkness.

 

*********

 

Harry didn't sleep well that night.  He kept dozing off and having utterly delightful dreams.  The details were fuzzy, but it involved Fred, George, and a lot of skin.  However, just as things were getting good, his conscious thought process would kick in, and the shock of what he was about to do would throw him harshly into wakefulness.  At which point, his raging hard-on wouldn't let him sleep until he'd done something about it – although one of the times, he was so fed up that he just doused himself with cold water. Unfortunately, the drying charm didn't seem to completely do the job, and it took him nearly an hour to get back to sleep.  And then, when he finally drifted off, the whole process started again from the beginning.  By the time the first grey hints of light started glowing from around the window curtains, Harry had gone through the cycle three full times, and was more exhausted then when he'd gone to bed.

Knowing that surrender is sometimes the only option, Harry rolled out of bed, wrapped himself in a house robe, and stumbled sleepily down the stairs to the kitchen.  A cup of Mrs. Weasley's spiced pumpkin juice sounded like a good bet.  Nobody would be awake at this ungodly hour, so he could settle his nerves and maybe even sneak back up to bed if he managed to calm himself enough. 

He had almost made it through the kitchen and into the pantry before he noticed that someone else was indeed crazy enough to be awake o'dark-thirty in the morning.

"Amazing, Potter.  You're the only person I know on whom bed-hair is a stylistic improvement."

Harry groaned inwardly and turned to see Draco sitting at the table, with the pitcher of spiced pumpkin juice.  "Good morning to you, too, Malfoy."

Draco's lips twitched a smile.  "So are you going to sit down?"

Harry startled.  "I… er… was just going to… er… get something and bring it back to my room."

At that, Draco actually laughed.  "Nice try, Potter.  You've got the distinct ' _I can't sleep, ergo I must find something sugary to consume and bemoan my sorry situation'_  look all over your face.  And in your rumpled clothing.  So pull up a chair and have some pumpkin juice.  It's really good hot."

_Well, so much for making a diplomatic escape._   Harry grabbed a clean cup from the cupboard, and carefully selected a seat close enough to Draco that he didn't seem rude, yet far enough away to indicate that he wasn't yet comfortable enough with his old rival for private conversation.  Trying to look occupied, he poured himself a glass and focused intently on drinking it.

"So, what's keeping you awake this time?" Draco said lazily.  "Nightmares?  Visions?  The incessant squeaking sound of mattress coils in Longbottom's bedroom?"

Harry choked so hard that he was sure he'd permanently flooded his sinuses with hot pumpkin juice.  Gagging and sputtering, he pushed back from the table and tried to get his lungs to work again.  "Mal- _wheeze_ -Malfo- _cough-hack_ -Malfoy!"

"Well, surely you couldn't have missed it?  The She-Weasley sneaks in there most nights."  Draco folded his arms on the table and leaned forward.  "God, Potter.  You're still so naïve."

Even though he was probably already beet red from coughing, Harry felt is face go hot.  "Speak for – _cough_ – yourself!" 

"I wouldn't want to brag.  But we're talking about you."

Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose.  His sinuses were going to be feeling that for hours, but somehow, he felt a headache was in his immediate future, regardless of the pumpkin juice.  He picked up his cup again and grumbled into it.  "And who said I wanted to talk to anyone?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Draco's shoulders drop slightly as he tipped his head to the side.  "You'd really rather just sit silently and pout?"

Harry looked up sharply – which caused a nasty kink in the neck.  Ignoring the fact that his eyes were watering profusely, he scowled.  "How does not being able to sleep equal pouting?  I came down for a cup of pumpkin juice –"

"Which you have," Draco interjected, nodding towards the cup in Harry's hand.

"– and some peace and quiet."

"People don't leave the seclusion of their bedrooms and come to common living areas to find peace and quiet."

Harry wanted to cry.  He pushed his cup aside, leaned forward, and thudded his forehead on the table lightly.  After a moment of staring at his feet without moving, he finally asked, "Malfoy, why are you here?"

"Because if I were to go anywhere else, I would be arrested, tortured, or killed.  Maybe all three."

"I mean, why are you in the kitchen at this hour of the morning?"  He turned his head sideways on the table to look at Draco.  "You don't strike me as the 'early to rise' sort."

Draco shrugged.  "I haven't gone to bed yet, actually."

Harry blinked and sat up again.  "Why not?"

Draco leaned back and took a slow sip of juice.  "Well, as far as the Horcrux search is concerned, we're at a standstill right now.  We can't even really follow the lead on the dagger until this storm stops.  Have you looked outside?"

Harry shook his head.

Draco nodded.  "There's a good inch of ice coating everything.  Solid.  You try to step out that door, and there's not a chance you'd be able to stay on your feet.  Brooms are out, too.  And until we pick up another clue, there isn't much I can do back here, either."

"So that sounds to me like a good time for you to rest."

Draco frowned, then slouched in his seat – something Harry had almost never seen him do.  "Quite the opposite, Potter," he said dejectedly.  "When there's nothing to do… nothing to distract me… that's when my mind starts racing.  Don't tell me the same thing doesn't happen to you."

Harry had to concede that point.  "You're right, I guess." 

A small smile creased the corner of Draco's mouth, and his shoulders straightened a bit.  "You know, you _could_ work on your Apparition.  You can still barely Apparate from one room to the next.  Big disadvantage for the saviour of the wizarding world."

"Okay, okay!  You're as bad as Hermione.  I'll get to it.  Just bugger off right now.  It's too damn early." 

Draco held up his hands in concession.  "Fine.  But it's going to come back to bite you." 

Harry pursed his lips, hoping he didn't look too sullen.  "So then, what's on your mind?"

"You and the She-Weasel, actually."

Harry's eyes went wide.  "Wha-what?  We're not… Ginny and Neville are… and would you stop calling her that!"

"Fine.  _Ginevra_.  Better?"  When Harry didn't say anything, Draco continued.  "And I know she's with Neville.  I was surprised that she'd downgrade quite so much after her failed attempt with you.  Quite the pair, aren't they?  And I promise, I will never say anything about the horrors of combining the traits of red hair and freckles with low, sloping foreheads."

"Malfoy…"

"Potter."

"Get to the point, would you?"  Harry was beginning to consider the merits of going for a nice long walk in the gentle spring showers currently pummelling the roof. 

"You seemed to take off with her in a hurry after the meeting earlier.  Or last night, for those of us actually who went to bed."

"I had to talk to her.  _Alone_.  Private conversation."

"Which had something to do with those mirror-image terrors she calls brothers, and the way they were eyeing you up like a piece of candy during the whole meeting." 

Harry jolted back from the table, almost knocking his chair over.  Draco was wearing the most satisfied expression, and Harry saw red.  "You listened in on our private conversation!"

"No, actually.  I hazarded a guess.  You just confirmed it.  Although I did see the little Ravenclaw space-case follow you, so you might ask her."

Harry tipped forward with a groan and thudded his forehead on the table again, not so gently this time.  "Malfoy, please…"

"Please, what?"

"Please don't do this."

"So, you don't want me to help you with your little ginger problem?"

Harry looked up again, eyes shooting daggers.  "Absolutely _not._   And there's no problem."

"Ah.  So you _want_ the attention!"  Draco folded his arms across his chest.  "Even better."

"What?!?"  This was all coming at Harry too fast.  He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to figure out what to say as he stared at Draco's smug expression, when Mrs. Weasley suddenly bustled through the kitchen door. 

"Oh!  Good morning, dears.  You're up early now, aren't you?"  She hurried over to the sink and began filling a pot with water.  "The storm out there is howling like a fright, and you're both on the third floor.  I'm not surprised it woke you.  But now there, it's almost time for breakfast, so if you want to run along and wash up, I'll have something hot and healthy on the table before you know it!"

Still grinning like the Kneazle that caught the Snidget, Draco stood smoothly.  "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley.  Potter, why don't you come along?  Your hair could use a good brushing.

"I… er…"  Harry had no idea what to say, but his eyes quickly fell on his mostly-full cup of juice.  "I want to finish my pumpkin juice first.  I'll talk to you later… er… I guess."

Draco shrugged innocently, turned, and walked out of the kitchen.

Harry was still trying to process everything that had been said – and not said – when Mrs. Weasley spoke again.  "My, it's good to see you boys getting along.  I never thought I would have the patience to deal with having that child under the same roof… but he really has come around, hasn't he?  And to see you two talking… well, it gives me hope for the future, you know?"

"I… I suppose."  Harry quickly took a large chug of his juice.

"I know I can't tell you what to do now, Harry, but really, go upstairs and take a hot shower.  You look like you've hardly slept, but a shower will make you feel better."

Harry stared at the cloudy surface of his juice, watching the tiny speckles of cinnamon and nutmeg swirl around.  "You're right.  Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."  He drained the rest of his drink, stood, and left the cup in the basin.

"Very good, dear.  Up you get, now!"

Harry wasted no time to hurry back up to his room and get his towel.  Mrs. Weasley was right.  A shower was exactly what he needed… especially because he was feeling somewhat dirty at the moment.

 

*********

 

The water was hot and steamy, and was almost enough to drive the winter chill out of Harry's bones.  He tried to focus on innocent things while he scrubbed up.  Quidditch, for example; which led to thoughts of broomsticks and sweaty locker rooms.  He tried to think about maybe joining a duelling club after the war… with wand battling wand… and realized that wouldn't work either.  Then he tried to think about the clues in the Werewolves' scroll.  Not innocent, but certainly not… _adult._   However, that only left him depressed.  In the end, he had to settle for blanking his mind as best he could.  The result of that, naturally, was to think about…

_"Damn that Malfoy_ ," Harry hissed to himself.  "The twins _and_ Malfoy."  _And I don't know which is worse._

Of course, he didn't quite know what Malfoy meant by that last comment.  " _Even better."_   _What the hell was that supposed to mean?  I mean… he's not gay, right?_   Harry peeked past the shower curtain at the massive collection of hair care products that didn't belong to Ginny or Luna, and definitely not to Hermione.  _Then again…_

Harry turned and leaned against the shower wall, letting the hot water pound his back.  _He's just messing with me.  He's bored being here, so he's messing with me.  He's still a Slytherin.  And… as for the twins…_

His train of thought was interrupted by a knock on the bathroom door.  "Oi, Harry!  Is that you in there?"

Harry jolted upright as if he'd been shocked.  "Er… Fred?  Or George?"

"Both!" came the cheerful reply of two voices in unison.  One voice continued, although Harry wasn't sure who it was.  "Are you planning to drown yourself in there?"

"Or do we have to come in and rescue you?"

Harry's eyes went wide.  "I don't think that will be necessary… er…" 

There someone mumbled what sounded like _Alohomora_ , and the doorknob clicked.

_Oh fuck._

A pair of ginger heads poked around the door.  Without his glasses, he still couldn't tell which was which, and at the moment, he didn't think it mattered.

"Ah, good, Harry!  You're still alive!"

"We were getting worried, you know."

Even though Harry was behind the shower curtain, and even though he'd changed and showered in front of his Quidditch team mates countless dozens of times, somehow, this was different.  He grabbed the edge of the shower curtain and pulled it to his chest as though that made it more opaque.  "No need to worry.  Just enjoying the hot water.  Ha… ha ha."  He tried to laugh, but it came out as a nervous cough.

"Tsk, tsk, Harry.  You sound like you're getting a cold."  They both came into the bathroom. 

Harry crouched towards the back of the tub.  "No, not at all."

"It must be the weather.  Dreadful, that.  Isn't it?"  The one on the left shut the door behind them, then leaned casually on the counter.

"It's… er…"  Harry almost slipped, but kept his footing.  "Listen, can you two just let me take my shower and –"

"We're not stopping you from taking a shower, Harry."

"Just go on.  We're only here to make sure you don't slip, hit your head, and drown."

"Or we could scrub your back."  The one on the right held up a wash cloth.

Harry felt his chest clench.  "I don't think that's necessary.  Please… Fred, George… I don't know what Luna said to you, but really…"

Harry felt his voice trail off as he realized that Twin-on-the-Left was unbuttoning his pyjama top.  "Er… Fred… or George… or whichever one of you that is… why are you taking off your shirt?"   _That was the dumbest question ever_ , Harry thought to himself.

"Dear, sweet, innocent Harry."

Harry bristled.  "I am _not_ that innocent!"

Twin-on-the-Right took a step towards the bath tub.  "Really?  Excellent!  George, it seems we don't have to deflower him from scratch."

"De-de-de _flower_?!?"  Harry tried to scramble backwards, but only managed to step on the bar of soap and went down, still clinging to the shower curtain.  The shower rod slipped out of its bracket, and the next thing he knew, Harry was lying on his back, his left leg hooked over the edge of the tub, with the curtain (thankfully) covering his midsection.  The shower continued to run, drenching the floor around the tub.

Much to Harry's annoyance, the twins laughed.  Had he not still been dazed from falling, he probably would have snapped at them.  However, when they moved towards him, presumably to help him up, they were interrupted by pounding on the door. 

Hermione's voice came through over the noise of the shower.  "ARE YOU OKAY IN THERE?  WHAT HAPPENED?"

"Fine," Harry replied back, struggling to get up.  "Just fine, Hermione."

"Harry, what was that crash?" 

Before Harry could answer, Fred cut in.  "Harry was attempting to perform Swan Lake in the bathtub, but his pirouette needs work."

"Fred?  Or George?"  She definitely sounded confused.  "What are _you_ doing in there?"

"Watching the show, of course!" George replied merrily.

Finally, Harry snapped.  "GET OUT!" 

Both the twins frowned.  "We didn't mean anything by –"

"I don't care!  OUT!"

Fred and George filed out without another word, shutting the door behind them.  As soon as the door was closed, Harry scrambled to his feet, turned off the shower, wrapped his towel around his waist, and barged out of the bathroom.  Hermione was standing in the hallway, holding her own towel, and much to Harry's dismay, so was Draco.

Hermione took a step towards him.  "Harry, what was that all –"

Harry cut her off with a shake of his head, and stormed past her towards his room.  Out the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Draco snickering with amusement.  Harry fumed silently.  _Great.  Just what I need._

He reached his bedroom and slammed his door behind himself.  He stalked angrily towards his bed, but drew up short and stood in the middle of the room, staring ahead blankly.  What _did_ he need?

Yes, he had an interest in blokes.  Yes, he wanted to explore that.  And no, he had nothing else important to do until the storm let up.  The twins, as devious and… predatory as they seemed to be… they were his friends and probably didn't mean him any harm.  In fact, it might be fun.  And it might be a good distraction.  And…

Harry blinked.  _I'm not seriously considering this, am I?_

That's when he noticed that his cock was pressing against the front of his towel.

_Er… I guess I am_.

Images from the dreams he had the previous night flashed through his mind, accompanied by the ghosts of imagined sensations, and Harry knew he was in way over his head.  But, while he was treading water, he might as well enjoy it.

 

*********

 

Harry spent the morning by himself, with the pile of magazines that he'd stowed under his bed.  _Educational_ stories, that's all.  However, between the moving pictures of hot young wizards, and the stories, anecdotes, and captions to describe them, Harry found himself quite entertained.  And very well educated.  He also wondered why the hell he hadn't done this before.  He'd had to relieve his arousal twice during the course of the morning, and each time he did, it seemed that he was hard again within minutes. 

By the time Ron knocked on the door, Harry had almost forgotten that there was a world outside his bedroom.  He was sprawled on his bed, with his magazine charmed to float suspended in the air above him so that his hands were free.  He'd just begun stroking himself again mid-way through a very enlightening story (fully illustrated), but the knock on the door snapped him out of it in a heartbeat.  The magazine fell on his face, and in his surprised scrambling, his trousers tangled around his feet.  The next thing he knew, he'd fallen to the floor with a thud.

"Harry?"  Ron called through the door.  He sounded concerned.  "You've been in there all morning.  Hermione said you had some sort of… incident in the bathroom earlier.  Are you okay?"

"Just a minute, Ron."  Harry struggled to pull his trousers up while gathering the magazines to hide under the bed.  He knew that if he didn't let Ron in quickly, he'd have to generate answers, and the last thing he needed was for Ron to find the magazines.  "I… er… was taking a nap… need to get dressed again."

"You sure you're okay?  What happened this morning?"

"Fine!"  Harry gasped as he narrowly missed getting his cock stuck in his zipper, but quickly readjusted himself and zipped up his fly.  "I didn't sleep too well, and I slipped in the shower."  He rushed to the door and opened it to see Ron standing there, looking sceptical. 

"Slipped?"

"Yes.  Stepped on a bar of soap."  Harry turned and walked back to his bed, still talking, praying that Ron wouldn't notice the bulge at the front of his crotch.  "It's hard to see in the shower without my glasses, and the twins had just knocked on the door to see if I was almost done, it startled me, and I slipped."  He sat on his bed heavily, and Ron took the nearby chair. 

The facts seemed to click together for Ron.  "Is that why my lunatic brothers were in there?" 

Harry nodded, inwardly signing in relief.  "Yeah, they were right at the door, so they came in to see if I was alright.  And I was a bit… er…"

"Embarrassed?"

Harry didn't even try to hide the red flush that crept into his cheeks.  "Yeah."

The explanation seemed to be enough for Ron.  He folded his arms across his chest and said, "I swear, destruction and devastation follow those two wherever they go."

Harry tipped his head thoughtfully.  "Well, as long as they manage to inflict some of that on Voldemort, they can stick around."

Ron shuddered.  "And on that note, I was wondering if you wanted to play a game of chess?"  He pulled out his wand and tapped the bedside table.  His old chess set appeared with a _pop_ , several pieces complaining that they were tired of being stored incorporeally. 

Harry smiled.  "Sure, Ron.  I think that would be just the thing."

They played for nearly two hours, during which Harry had to repeatedly force himself to think of anything but sex.  His mind kept returning the magazines beneath his bed, and the photo of "Hunter", who kept staring up at him through his blond fringe with hungry grey eyes.  Not that the wizard reminded him in any way of Draco.  Not at all.  There just hadn't been any ginger-haired twins in any of the magazines to stare at.  But there had been plenty of other lithe young men.  And Hunter. 

By the time Mrs. Weasley had called upstairs to tell everyone that dinner was ready, Harry had lost eight games in spectacular fashion.

"Wow, Harry," Ron said, as he pulled the bedroom door shut behind them both, "you haven't played that badly since third year."

"Thanks, Ron.  Lack of proper sleep will do that to a person."

Ron shrugged.  "I suppose.  And you missed breakfast, too.  But I poked into the kitchen earlier, and mum was cooking up a storm, so I'm sure dinner will be excellent."

They arrived at the bottom of the staircase, and were immediately redirected by Ginny to proceed to the sitting room, not the dining room or kitchen.  Harry and Ron looked at each other in confusion, but both shrugged and followed down the hallway, away from the kitchen. 

Neville was already in the sitting room when they arrived, setting out a tray of vegetable sticks and cheese on a small table next to two loaves of bread.  He grinned at them.  "Hi Harry!  Are you okay?  I heard something happened in the bathroom this morning, and that you've been in your room all day.  What happened?"

_Does everyone know about this_?  Harry dismissed the question with a wave of his hand.  "I slipped in the bathtub, and… the twins came in and saw me… and… you know how Fred and George can be."

"How can we be, Harry?"  Fred asked from the doorway, grinning mischievously.  He stepped into the room, followed closely by George.

"Hazardous to all sane forms of human life," Ron answered quickly.

Fred cuffed Ron while George stepped up to Harry and leaned on his shoulder.  "Yeah, Harry.  How can we be?"

Harry's initial instinct was to pull away, but he stopped himself.  It was time to start turning the tables.  Feeling somewhat sly, Harry raised a coy eyebrow at George.  "Very… entertaining."  He poked George in the underarm.

George jumped back with a yelp of surprise, obviously ticklish.  Harry filed away that bit of information. 

In the meantime, Ron had batted Fred away with one hand while rubbing the back of his own head with the other.  "Mental.  All of you.  Absolutely mental," he muttered to himself as he reached for a celery stick.  Fred cuffed him again before hurrying out of the room, followed by George.  Ron scowled at the doorway and reached back for the celery stick.  Around a mouthful, he asked, "So, Neville, what's going on in here?  Why dinner in the parlour?"

"Well, we wouldn't all fit in the dining room, and it's so dreary in the kitchen, so Tonks decided that what we all needed while we ride out the storm is a good cheerful meal."  He aimed his wand at the fireplace, and a moment later, a toasty fire was dancing on the hearth.  He smiled in satisfaction.  "Ginny and I have been helping Mrs. Weasley all day – I never knew cooking was so much work!"

Harry looked around the room and nodded to himself.  It certainly looked like they'd been working all day.  The room had been arranged in a cosy circle with small tables of food and drink distributed amongst the seats.  There was certainly enough to feed everyone in the house and more.  Harry grinned to himself.  It was just the sort of change of pace that everyone needed.  Plus, it might just be the setup he needed to turn things back around on the devious duo. 

Harry stooped by the fire, making a show of warming his hands so that he didn't have to select a seat immediately, while Ron grabbed a few more vegetable sticks and wandered out of the room.  Mr. Weasley and Remus came in together and sat down in the far corner, talking intently about cursed blades.  Hermione and Tonks arrived next, both carrying platters, with Hermione explaining that cooking was simply outside her area of expertise, and she couldn't necessarily do everything.  Bill and Fleur followed.  Fleur was gushing about how romantic the fire was on such a miserably cold day, and they took up residence on a small couch by the hearth.  Luna strolled in, notably devoid of the box she had earlier, much to Harry's relief.  The twins finally came back and selected a pair of chairs to the right of the door – nearest the plate of pastries.  Careful not to appear too obvious, Harry stood up, stretched, and made his way over to the seat next to George's.

Fred noticed first, and elbowed George.  They both sat silently for several seconds, plainly waiting for Harry to say or do something.  Harry just smiled at them innocently, leaned back in his seat, and crossed his right ankle over his left knee. 

After several more long, awkward moments, George coughed and asked, "So… er… Harry… you're feeling okay after this morning, right?  I mean, once we'd established that the bathtub hadn't been cracked…"

"…we wondered if you'd damaged your head in the process," Fred finished.

Knowing that he was treading in dangerous waters, Harry gave a thoughtful pause before speaking.  "Oh, don't worry.  I took good care of my head for the rest of the morning."

It had been the right move.  For only the second time since he'd met them, the twins were dead silent.  Harry mentally patted himself on the shoulder, and was inwardly congratulating himself on his first successful strategic manoeuvre when he realized that the conversation hadn't gone unnoticed.  Draco was standing in the doorway, and it only took Harry a split second to realize that Draco had seen the whole exchange.  The look of interested amusement on Draco's face said it all.

Harry opened his mouth to say… _something_ … but nothing came out and he snapped his mouth shut again. 

Appearing very pleased with himself, Draco tipped his head in silent acknowledgement and crossed the room to a chair directly facing Harry. 

Harry wasn't sure whether he should acknowledge Draco, or turn his full attention back to the twins.  And then, even if he did the latter, he knew Draco was watching, and that changed _everything_.  What the hell was he up to?  And why was he so damn interested in Harry's… activities?

But that was okay.  He'd dropped his hint to the twins.  Bombshell, more or less.  For now, he'd just have to wait for his next move.  Especially considering the fact that there were already several adults in the room, and more importantly, Mrs. Weasley had just walked in carrying a large platter of chicken drumsticks.  Ron was right behind her, toting a pile of napkins and plates, eyeing the chicken greedily.

_Food now, boys later,_ Harry told himself.  The last few residents of Twelve Grimmauld Place had arrived, and the food smelled delicious.  Harry took a plate and began piling it with treats, but as he was reaching for a butterbeer, he felt the pressure of someone's eyes watching him.  He cautiously looked up.

Draco hadn't even taken so much as a napkin yet.  He was still watching Harry intently, making absolutely no show of hiding it.  He gave a slight nod to Harry, with a subtle smirk, and finally turned to help himself to the pumpkin juice.

And Harry… found that air had suddenly made itself scarce in his immediate vicinity.  Shaking, he twisted off the cap of his butterbeer, and almost missed his mouth as he raised the bottle to take a sip.  Whatever Draco had in mind, it was making him nervous.  And mildly excited.  Knowing that he had to cut off that line of thinking _fast_ , he focused on his plate of food. 

Ron sat down next to Harry and swung his chair around to face his best friend. His plate was practically overflowing, and he was already biting into a pastie.  "I'll never understand my mum," Ron said around a mouthful.  "It's just two minutes to dinner, I try to take a pastie, and she yells at me that I'll spoil my appetite!  I mean, what's the difference if I eat it here or in the kitchen?"

"I couldn't begin to tell you, Ron," Harry said offhandedly.

Ron swallowed and grumbled, "I'm starting to wonder if I'm the only sane person left around here."  He blinked and looked at Harry.  "Er… sorry, mate.  I didn't mean you."

Harry smiled grimly.  "You might have had it right the first time."  He glanced sideways over Ron's shoulder to where Draco was sitting.

Draco was now engaged in what seemed to be a lively conversation with Bill, and wasn't paying the least bit of attention to Harry.  For some reason, that left Harry just a bit disappointed. 

Still, the food was excellent, and Ron was very efficiently distracting him with a detailed explanation of why it was imperative for the Chudley Cannons trade Scott Bradshaw for Puddlemere's Keeper, Rudolph Jenkins.  After the first butterbeer, however, Harry decided that a glass of wine might be a good idea.  And then another.  Thus, by the time Fred stood up and motioned for George to follow, Harry was feeling nicely warmed, and distinctly uninhibited.  It was a rather pleasant change of pace.

Harry sat back until Fred and George exited the room, carefully noting which way they'd turned – back towards the kitchen.  _Perfect_.  Harry stood, stretched casually, and yawned.  "Hmmm… that was good."

Ron looked at him with a slight frown.  "You're not going to have any dessert?  Mum just brought in the trifle."

Harry grinned.  "Don't worry; I'm not missing dessert today.  But I think I need to go to the little wizard's room first."

"Huh?"

"I need to go to the loo, Ron."

"Oh."

Harry took a quick look around before making his exit.  Everyone was still socializing, eating, and laughing.  Chances were that nobody would even notice his absence.  Except one.  Draco's body was still turned so that he was facing Bill, and by all appearances, he was thoroughly engrossed in whatever Bill was discussing.  However, his eyes were locked on Harry like an automated tracking device, and his neutral smile suddenly twisted at one corner. 

It took Harry a moment to shake himself loose from Draco's gaze.  He didn't want to think about what Draco might have in mind, even though his cock had a few helpful suggestions.  As Harry slipped out of the room, he tried to fix his mind on Fred and George, but his thoughts kept returning to Draco. 

_"Mental.  Absolutely mental,"_ Ron's voice echoed in his mind, and Harry was definitely starting to think that it applied to himself.  The twins were deviant enough, but to take interest in Malfoy?  Definitely a bad idea.

Fred and George had turned left out of the sitting room, and Harry followed the hall to the left until he came to the foyer, where he paused to listen.  His guess was correct – he definitely heard voices coming from the kitchen.  Everyone else was back in the sitting room, so it had to be the twins.  Stepping carefully so that the floorboards wouldn't squeak, Harry made his way down the stairs.  He peeked around the doorframe into the kitchen.  The twins weren't in sight, but their voices were coming from the pantry.

"I think they'll notice if there are more than two bottles gone.  Dung only ever takes two at a time."

"Well, maybe we should take two bottles of the Firewhiskey for the Cinnamon Firebombs, and then a bottle of wine for ourselves."

"That could work.  How much of a kick do we really want to put into those candies?"

"Hmmm… as much as it might be fun –"

"And it would be fun."

"– we can't have ickle Firsties teetering their way back to classes, drunk on the candies they bought at our store, breathing fire when they burp."

"There aren't any ickle Firsties this year though."

"Good point.  But next year –"

"Yeah.  I can see it already."

"First Year Charms will never be the same."

Harry grinned to himself.  Alcoholic candies for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.  It had only been a matter of time before they did it.  Remaining silent, he snuck through the kitchen and sidled up alongside the pantry door, waiting for the right moment.

"Maybe we mix up a really strong batch and send them to Good Old Snake Eyes.  He'll be too pissed to fight back."

"Fighting with candy.  I like your style.  But at that point, we really ought to just poison them."

"True.  And why would we waste good candy on a vile creature that obviously lacks taste?"

"Speaking of taste, Fred, put that bottle of Merlot back on the shelf.  There's a 1947 Pinot Noir and a 1949 Sauvignon Blanc behind the rolled oats.  My guess is that nobody else even knows they're there."

"Damn!  When did you notice that?"

"Three days ago, when mum had me cleaning the pantry."

"That's not fair.  She had me cleaning the bathroom."

"At least I didn't drink them myself.  Now, that only leaves one question."

 

"Does Harry like reds or whites?"

At that, Harry startled so hard he almost stumbled backwards.  Quickly steadying himself, he decided not to waste the moment.  He strolled into the pantry as if nothing unusual was happening and casually said, "I think red wine goes best with today's dessert." 

Fred and George both jumped as if they'd been shocked.  Fred nearly dropped the two bottles he was holding, but recovered nicely.  "Er… Harry… is there anything we can do for you?" 

"Or more specifically, to you?" George chimed in.

Inwardly, Harry was already shaking.  Still, if he was going to do this, it was all or nothing.  He moved between Fred and George, took the bottles of wine from Fred's hands, and put them back on the shelf.  "I think you two have already done enough _to_ me.  Between the meeting last night and the stunt this morning in the bathroom, you'd think I'd be crazy to voluntarily put myself in the same room as you."  He turned to George and took the bottles of Firewhiskey from him and likewise returned them to the pantry shelf.

George looked down at him with a combination of caution and predatory hunger, which ended up looking quite comical to Harry.  "So, if you're crazy to be in the same room as us –"

" – then why come down here?" Fred finished from behind.

"Simple," Harry said.  His voice was definitely beginning to shake now, and he was almost ready to bolt out the door, but if he did, he'd regret it… for so many reasons.  Trying not to think about what he was actually doing, he reached out and clutched the front of George's shirt in his fist.  "I must be crazy."

Harry saw the delighted grin start to form on George's face for only an instant before he pulled George down and attempted to move in for a kiss.  He'd intended it to be hot and possessive, like one of the stories he'd read that morning, but the result was that he smashed his nose into George's chin and almost knocked his glasses off his face.  To make matters worse, George rubbed his chin, and Fred actually laughed.

"I… er…"  Thoroughly embarrassed, Harry looked around frantically, thinking of the best possible way to make a hasty exit.  He'd botched the whole thing, and now he was too mortified to go through with it, but before he could move, Fred closed in behind him and gripped his shoulders firmly.  Harry squirmed, not quite trying to get away, but beginning to feel slightly trapped, and just a bit frantic.  "Listen, Fred, maybe I –"

Fred pulled Harry back against him, moulding his body against Harry.  He wrapped his left arm around Harry's neck and shoulders, and leaned in to speak softly into Harry's right ear.  "Maybe… you should relax."

Of course, the effect was the exact opposite, and Harry felt his body go rigid, and his struggling became a bit more intentional.  "No, really, maybe this isn't a good idea.  I mean, someone could come in at any moment, and –"

Harry felt Fred nod.  "You're right.  George, take care of that, please?"

"Absolutely."  George pulled out his wand and flicked it at the door.  The door shut noiselessly.  Another swish of the wand, and George nodded in satisfaction.  "Locked and silenced.  That should give us enough time if someone comes into the kitchen."

"Time for what?" Harry squeaked.

George chuckled.  "To romantically whisk you away."

"Or at least to Apparate with you to our bedroom.  But –"

"– we rather like this," George finished with a sweeping gesture to indicate the closed quarters of the pantry.

Harry opened his mouth to protest that there must be some sort of risk involved, and that perhaps another time or place would be better, and maybe they should think about this first, but suddenly George was walking towards him, and Harry forgot what he'd planned to say.  "I… George… er… maybe I…"

His voice trailed off as George pressed up against Harry's front, effectively sandwiching him between two warm bodies.  Fred tightened his hold on Harry just a little bit with his left arm, and slowly traced his right hand down Harry's front.  Harry squirmed again, but this time, it wasn't to escape.  "Hey, that tickles!  Fred, please –"

Harry's words were choked off as George's mouth suddenly sealed over his.  Too surprised to do anything else, Harry tried to adjust to the motions of George's lips and tongue, while his brain tried to keep up with everything that was happening.  In the meantime, Fred's right hand kept creeping lower. 

There was no escape, that was, if Harry had any inclination to escape.  This was playing out like one of the stories he'd read that morning – the one with the naïve young virgin being ravished in a broom closet by –

And that's when Fred's hand made it to Harry's crotch and squeezed, and the world around him dissolved into a fuzzy red haze.  There was too much physical contact all at once, and Harry could almost feel his brain short-circuiting.  On the pantry shelves, the wine bottles clinked together, adding to the chaos.  George was practically ravaging his mouth, and there was definitely not enough oxygen getting through.  Behind him, Fred was repositioning himself, and gently nudged Harry's legs apart with his foot.  A slender thigh pushed between his legs, pressed up, and pulled slightly backwards, drawing Harry's arse tight against Fred's crotch.  Harry distinctly felt the bulge pressing against his arse, and he couldn't help but squirm again.  He was so distracted by the many things already happening didn't even notice that his fly was being unzipped and a hand was slipping past the waistband of his trousers until he felt the unmistakeable sensation of skin on skin.

Thoroughly started, Harry yelped and jerked, but once again, Fred's arm tightened around him.  George grinned and softly covered Harry's mouth with his hand.  "I know we've got a silencing charm on the door, Harry, but really –"

"– we're not trying to hurt you –"

"– unless you like that sort of thing, too."  George winked.

Harry's eyes went wide.  Not that he objected to trying… he'd read something about that, too… and it seemed interesting… but for George to say it like that, right there…

Fred squeezed Harry's cock and hummed lightly in approval.  "Mmmhmm.  He seems to like the sound of that, George."

"MMMFFFFFFF!!!"

"What's that, Harry?"  George took his hand off Harry's mouth.

"Can we just slow down a minute?" Harry said in a rush, out of breath.  "I mean, don't slow down, I like it, but… oh shit, I don't know what I mean."

"But earlier you said that you _weren't_ innocent."

"I'm not!" Harry protested, although he was finally understanding that innocence had quite a few levels, and he was closer to the bottom rung than he wanted to admit.  Still, his cock was telling him very distinctly that this was a good idea, and he'd better get over this innocence thing before he exploded.

"Do you want us to stop?" Fred asked, sounding perfectly serious, but then he ground his thigh up against Harry's crotch again, and Harry's knees buckled. 

"Noooo…" Harry whimpered, as he found himself weakly grinding back.  His head flopped to the side and he took a heady breath.  "Just let me…"  He stopped short.  He swore he'd seen a shadow at the hinge of the pantry door.  However, George had just reached over and cupped his cheek to turn his face forward again, and very quickly leaned forward to kiss Harry again.  At the same time, Fred latched onto Harry's neck with his mouth. 

With two mouths devouring him like an ice cream that was melting too fast, and Fred starting to grind against him again in a slow but firm rhythm, Harry quickly dismissed any thoughts that took energy away from his current preoccupation.  George began playing with his nipples, pinching and twisting, not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to send little shocks straight to his groin.  This was completely different than masturbating.  Fantasies had nothing compared to someone else's hands on his body, someone's mouth on his skin, someone else stroking his cock. 

Fred was beginning to rock faster behind him, and all Harry could do was to move with him, which caused him to push right into the rhythm of Fred's hand on his prick.  George had taken a moment to nip his way along Harry's collarbone before leaning back to unzip his own trousers. 

For all the times Harry had seen the twins naked in the Quidditch locker room, he'd never really _looked_ at them so openly.  George's cock was possibly a bit shorter than Harry's, but definitely thicker.  So now, Harry was completely transfixed on George as he wrapped his hand around his own cock and began pumping it in time to Fred's grinding movements, putting on quite the show for Harry. 

"Wait," Harry said, briefly startled at how thick his own voice sounded.  "Let me…"  He reached out a hand towards George's erection. 

George grinned widely and moved closer, while Fred gave a short laugh.  "He's getting the idea, isn't he?"

George nodded, and shuddered as Harry gave a first tentative stroke.  "Oh yes," George said breathily.  "He's getting the idea, all right.  Quick little learner – oooh…"

Encouraged, Harry stroked a bit harder, and was rewarded to see George's eyes close and his head tip back.  It was strange to have his hand on another person's cock, Harry thought, but it certainly felt good.  Just as good was the sense of control he got from watching the changes in George's posture and breathing as he tugged, stroked, squeezed, and rubbed.  An instant later, however, the sense of control faded as Fred began pumping Harry's cock again with earnest.  Determined not to ruin the effect, it was all Harry could do to keep his fist moving up and down the length of George's shaft in time to Fred's strokes.

Three bodies were moving together perfectly, all sweaty, making Harry wish he'd thought to take off his shirt.  Fred's body was lurching beneath his, chest hot against Harry's back, thigh still driving up between Harry's legs.  George had leaned forward and was trying to get his lips, tongue, and teeth on every available inch of skin above Harry's collar as Harry continued to jerk him off, awkwardly but determinedly.  There were gasping breaths mingling in time with the clinking wine bottles on the shelves.  The arousal was almost overwhelming, and Harry could feel the tension in his groin beginning to build.

"Malfoy?  What are you doing in here?"  Ron's voice called from the other side of the pantry door.

In a heartbeat, Fred, George, and Harry froze.  Harry slowly turned his head and looked back at the hinge of the pantry door.  The shadow he thought he'd seen earlier… was moving.  And then he heard Draco's voice. 

"I was coming in to get some water and I heard something rattling in the pantry," Draco's voice answered evenly.  "I think it's a Boggart."

Fred and George looked extremely disappointed, and quickly began straightening up the bottles and other things they'd tipped or otherwise disrupted.  In contrast, Harry thought he was going to drop dead of a heart attack right there, and had incredibly lost the power to breathe on his own.  Fred assisted with a solid _WHUMP_ across his back, which left Harry coughing and sputtering.  " _Thanks, Fred_ ," he whispered hoarsely.

" _No problem,_ " Fred said with a wink as he grabbed the bottles of wine.  George grabbed the Firewhiskey.

Back in the kitchen, the conversation continued.  "A Boggart?" Ron asked.  "Let me look."

"Sure, if you want to deal with a six-foot spider."

There was a significant pause.  "Er… I think I'll get old Mad Eye to take a look.  He's been looking a bit bored the past three days."

"Right," Draco answered.  "I'll stay here and keep watch."

There was the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and the delayed sound of Draco chuckling.  Harry was still standing there, staring at the door until Fred grabbed him by the arm.  "Come on, Harry!"

"I… er… wait… what should we do about –"

"Oh for the love of Merlin!"  Fred quickly pulled Harry tight against him.  George sandwiched him in from the other side.  A moment and a gut-twisting ride later, Harry found himself on the floor of the twins' bedroom.  The twins started bustling around immediately, but Harry didn't move.

"Do you think he could see through the crack of the door?" George asked Fred as he tucked the Firewhiskey bottles into the back of his sock drawer.

"I wouldn't think that the gap was wide enough," Fred said slowly.  He was hiding one of the wine bottles in his old school trunk.  "But then again, this is Malfoy we're talking about."

"True," George replied.  "I wonder why he was waiting there anyway."

"Probably getting his rocks off."

"Probably wanted to join us."

Fred laughed as he tapped the cork of the other wine bottle with his wand.  The cork sailed off and hit George in the arse.  "Maybe we should have invited him in."

That was enough to send Harry scrambling to his feet.  "Invite… Malfoy… _why_?" he sputtered.

Both of the other boys looked at Harry as though just realizing he was still there.  George grinned widely, pulled out his wand, flicked it, and an empty wine glass appeared in the air above Harry.  "Come now, Harry.  For a ferret, he isn't completely hideous."

"I'll bet he has a very tight arse," Fred mused, pouring wine into his own glass that he'd just conjured.

"But… _Malfoy_!"

George looked Harry up and down once.  "I'll bet he thinks you're pretty attractive, too," he said, as if he hadn't even heard Harry.  "Which would explain his peculiar behaviour lately."

In an instant, a clear understanding of Draco's unexpected statement that morning hit Harry like a rogue Bludger.  The fact that other people had noticed _something_ was even more troubling.  Stunned, Harry stumbled over to the bed and sat down on it heavily, leaving the glass levitating in the air.

Fred shook his head and walked over to retrieve the glass, filling it with wine as he carried it.  He held out the glass.  "Come on, Harry.  He's been watching you for months.  I'm surprised that you haven't noticed."

Harry looked up at Fred, ignoring the wine glass, mouth hanging open slightly.  "W-why would I notice something like that?  Malfoy doesn't talk to me.  He practically ignores me.  In fact, it was only this morning that we even talked about anything but Horcruxes."

For some reason, this caused Fred to grin in a way that made Harry nervous all over again.  "Here, Harry.  I think you need this."  Again, he gestured for Harry to take the wine glass.

"I don't think so, Fred."

"Does this mean you're relaxed enough to continue our activities already?"

Harry blinked.  Shook his head as if he wasn't sure he'd heard Fred correctly.  "What?!  How can you still be thinking about… _that_?"

"Easily," George cut in.  "I'm still hard as a rock, and I think my balls are going to turn blue and fall off if I don't get some attention."

"You're kidding me," Harry said. 

Fred nudged him.  "You mean, you're not?"

"NO!"  Harry lurched to his feet, narrowly missing the wine glass with his elbow.  "Listen, I need to go."

"But… blue balls are bad for one's health," George said, practically whimpering. 

"And leaving George's balls blue might be bad for your health," Fred said with a nod.  "Believe me."

"I'll take my chances," Harry said flatly.

"Are you sure you're not –"

" _NO_!"

Fred frowned.  "Tomorrow, perhaps?"

"I… I'll think about it," Harry said shortly as he barged to the door.

"Wait, Harry –" Fred said quickly.

"WHAT?!?"

"You might want to zip up your fly before you leave."

Grumbling to himself, Harry zipped his trousers and let himself out of the twins' lair.

There was nobody in the hallway, much to Harry's relief.  He hurried past Neville's room, then rushed up the stairs two at a time to the third floor.  In his bedroom, with the door securely locked behind him, he collapsed onto his bed with an audible _WHUFF_. 

_Why the hell do I get myself into these things?_ Harry thought miserably.With a groan, he rolled over and smushed his face into his pillow.  _I mean, I could have stayed.  I could have continued things with the twins.  Merlin knows I wanted to.  But, shit.  I couldn't.  So instead… I blew it.  FUCK.  I just blew the whole damn thing._

Common sense said that the twins would probably welcome him back with open arms – or legs – as soon as he felt horny enough again, but he didn't want to.  Not after that fiasco.  For now, he just wanted to stay in his room and not move until the weather improved and he could go out and follow the latest lead.  Alone.

_You're sulking_ , the voice in his head taunted.

_Shut up_ , he replied.

_You're sulking, and you're pitifully horny._

_Didn't I tell you to shut up?_

_You're sulking, you're pitifully horny, and you're not going to do a damn thing about either of those conditions, are you?_

_Damn straight, I'm not._

Which only made Harry feel worse.  With a long-suffering sigh, he reached to the side, grabbed the corner of the blanket, and flipped in place, wrapping himself up in a tight little cocoon.  It was warm and comfortable in the blanket, and if he had his way, he wouldn't come out for anything.

Of course, with his sensitive and still partially-hard cock pressing against the front of his jeans, he quickly amended that to "almost anything".  Just as quickly, he reminded himself that this was the exact reason why he should never emerge from his blanket again.  Tempted to cry, he bit down on the knuckle of his right hand and closed his eyes, although he knew that sleep wasn't going to happen.  He'd already had one sleepless night, and then his morning had started with Draco Malfoy.  He should have known it was bound to be a miserable day.

 

*********

 

It wasn't long before there was a knock at the door.  Harry grit his teeth and remained silent.  The doorknob jiggled.  _That had better not be Fred and George._

"Harry?"  Safe.  It was Ron.  "Are you okay in there?  You never came back down for pudding, and when I saw the twin terrors, they said you were up here."

Harry pulled the blanket down just far enough so that he could speak clearly.  "I'm fine, Ron.  Just wanted to lie down."

"Why?  Are you sick or something?"  Harry could hear the frown in Ron's voice.

"I think I ate too much, and… er… after going to the loo, I figured it was best for me to lie down for a while."

"But… you ate less than I did."

Harry propped up on his elbow, trying to think fast.  "You were just too busy talking about Quidditch notice."

"Oh."  Ron sounded disappointed.  "Are you… er… would you rather I not come in?"

"Maybe later, Ron.  I think I just want some quiet time."

"Oh.  Okay."

Harry settled back down on his side and was starting to relax when Ron spoke again.  "Are you sure my brothers didn't do anything to you?"

Harry jolted upright, coughing.  "No, Ron," he said hoarsely.  He cleared his throat as best he could.  "No.  They were… er… just picking on me for… er… being sick.  You know how they are."

"Riiiiight."  Ron didn't sound too convinced.  "I'll come back and check on you later."

Feeling utterly defeated, Harry dropped back down to the mattress.  "Okay, Ron.  Thanks."

On the other side of the door, Harry guessed Ron waved goodbye, forgetting that the door was opaque.  That was the sort of thing Ron would do.  For his part, Harry closed his eyes again and prayed for unconsciousness. 

 

*********

 

A couple of sleepless hours later, Ron came back.  The conversation was about the same as before, only shorter, if that was possible.  Harry claimed that he was tired, and that his stomach hurt.  This time, he blamed stress.  Ron went away again, and Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to be happy about that or not. 

Harry peered up at his clock on the mantle.  It was almost 6:30, but it felt like it should have been closer to 10:00.  It was dark outside, and the sleet hadn't stopped pounding against the window.  For a while, Harry debated putting on his Invisibility Cloak and sneaking out for a walk, regardless of the storm, but then decided that it would take too much effort.

Maybe an hour after that, there was another knock at the door.  This time, it was Hermione. 

"Harry, if you're sick, maybe you should have Tonks take a look at you.  She's very good at First Aid."

"First Aid?  I haven't broken my arm or anything, Hermione," Harry said with a barely-contained groan. 

"Then what's wrong?"

Harry clenched his fists in the blanket angrily, but tried to keep his voice even.  "I'm just tired, my stomach is a bit off, and I'm rapidly developing a headache."

"Headache?  Is it your scar?  Do you think –"

"NO!  Voldemort is _not_ invading my brain, I do not want medical assistance, and you don't need to worry about me!"

"But I just wanted to check on you because –"

"Damn, Hermione, I just want some privacy!"

"Well!" 

Footsteps thudded loudly down the stairs.  For about ten seconds, Harry felt quite satisfied with himself.  And then, he felt even more miserable.

Not long after that, Harry found himself becoming stir-crazy quite rapidly.  Trying not to associate it with his encounter with Fred and George earlier, he unwrapped himself from his blanket, pulled out one of his magazines, and had the worst wank he'd ever attempted.  It wasn't even satisfying, it only left him frustrated, and now… he needed to go to the bathroom.

Knowing that it wouldn't be able to wait until everyone else went to bed, Harry conceded defeat and dug through his trunk for his Invisibility Cloak.  He might have to leave the seclusion of his room, but he still wasn't in the mood to see anyone.  He finally found the silvery folds of the cloak in the back left corner of the trunk.  He threw it over his head as he walked to the door, and then pressed his ear against the door to listen.  There were sounds of people talking, and footsteps, but they seemed to be coming from the second floor, not anywhere near his bedroom.  Carefully, he turned the doorknob and opened the door a crack.

The floor was deserted.  On the floor below, he could make out at least Ginny's voice, Luna's, and Hermione's, and… _shit._   The twins. 

_They can't see me.  They can't see me.  And if they can't see me, they can't…_

Harry nodded to himself and decided that it was good enough.  He closed his door behind him as quietly as possible and crept softly down the stairs.  He was halfway down the staircase before he picked up on the nature of the conversation.

Ginny was standing with her arms folded across her chest, staring at Fred and George accusingly.  "Yes, I agree that he might have wanted to experiment a bit, but really, you two must have pushed the envelope just a bit far."

Hermione seemed confused.  "I still don't see why you won't tell me what's really wrong with Harry."

"Nothing is wrong with Harry," Luna said knowingly.  "It's perfectly normal."

"What's normal?" Hermione asked.

George appeared tongue-tied, and Fred was plainly flustered as he tried to answer for both of them.  "We didn't push anything, Gin!  I swear!  He was the one who walked in on us!"

"Walked in on you doing _what_?" Hermione pushed, but it was obvious that she was being ignored.

"I highly doubt that," Ginny said flatly.

"Don't worry about Harry," Luna said to Ginny, "He's finally exploring new things, and it's good for him.  But just like when a Two-headed Fidabreck undergoes metamorphosis, the process is uncomfortable.  Give him time."

Ginny scowled.  "I gave him time, and look what happened."  She looked back at her brothers.  "Knowing you two, he's been traumatized for life.  You know he's a bit delicate about that."

It was all Harry could do not to yell out that he was _not_ delicate.  Instead, he bit his tongue so hard that it hurt.  He should not be hearing this.  He should be sneaking past the gaggle on the landing so he could get to the bathroom, relieve himself, and get his arse back to his bedroom before someone caught him and tried to interrogate him.  There were just some times when all a boy needed was to be left the hell alone.  However, there was no way of getting around them undetected, so all he could do was wait… and listen.

"Listen, Ginny, he's a big boy, and he'll recover," Fred insisted.  "In fact, as determined as he seemed, my guess is that he's already plotting his next venture."

"What kind of venture?" Hermione pressed.  "Harry isn't taking any sort of illegal drugs, is he?"

Ginny didn't even look at her.  Instead, she continued to glare at her brothers.  "He's been locked in his room all night, and you two were the last people to see him.  I've known you nuts for sixteen years.  I have every reason to believe that there's a direct correlation between Harry's disappearing act and the smug look I saw on your faces when you came back to the sitting room."

"Smug… huh?"  Hermione shook her head in frustration.  "Ginny, would you please tell me what you're talking about?  I'm Harry's friend too, and I'm worried about him!"

Ginny put a hand on Hermione's shoulder.  "I'd tell you, but Harry would never forgive me.  I promise he's not taking drugs, but that's all I can say.  It's bad enough that these two are… well… I'm not sure, but I'm going to get to the bottom of it."

_Thank you, Ginny_ , Harry mouthed.

Hermione, however, seemed distinctly less than thankful.  She shook off Ginny's hand and turned to Luna.  "I don't suppose you're going to share this dirty little secret either, are you?"

Luna cocked her head.  "Well, it's not really dirty, but I did promise Harry that I would let him tell people in his own time.  It seems important to him."

That was apparently the last straw for Hermione, for she spun on her heel, and stalked off towards her bedroom.  Ginny watched her go, then turned back on her brothers.  "I'll get you two later.  For now… oh hell, it's early, but I'm going to bed.  Come on, Luna.  We should talk."

Ginny took off towards her bedroom with Luna following close behind, leaving the twins standing there.  After a moment, Fred shrugged.  "It's not our fault."

George nodded.  "Who would have known that Malfoy would show up –"

"– and stare –"

"– for who knows how much of it."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as if he could block out the memory, or at least, stop the embarrassed flush from burning his cheeks so badly.

Fred leaned back against the wall and scratched his head.  "I wish Harry had stuck around."

George nodded.  "He would have been in for a surprise."

Harry blinked.  _What surprise?_  

"Ah well," Fred said lazily as he stretched.  "Enough conquest for one day, George?"

"No, but it will have to do."

And with that, the twins left the hallway, heading down the stairs towards the first floor.  Harry didn't move as they walked past him, completely unaware that he'd been sitting on the upper flight of stairs the whole time.  And Harry didn't move for several moments after they'd disappeared.  This whole thing was… just too much.  Why couldn't he just relax and enjoy it – _SEX_ , he forced himself to think the word – like anyone else?  Like it was just some normal thing? But then, nothing had ever been normal for Harry Potter, so why should this be any different?

Finally, after several long minutes of staring at a deserted hallway, Harry crossed the hall, let himself into the bathroom, and pulled the door shut behind him.  Immediately, the cloak came off, and Harry allowed himself some much needed relief.  After he'd zipped his trousers back up, he realized that he might as well just get ready for bed, whether or not that meant he'd sleep.  Sometimes, routines just made people feel better.  So, he brushed his teeth, washed his face, and… heard a knock at the door.

_Shit!_

Still not wanting to identify himself, Harry didn't even think twice as he pulled his cloak back over his head.  The knock at the door repeated itself.  Beginning to feel somewhat trapped, Harry looked around for some way to answer without speaking – _mouthwash_!  He'd put some mouthwash in his mouth, and hum a jumbled sort of response.  Nobody on the other side would know it was him, but they'd go away…

And then the doorknob clicked open.  He'd forgotten to lock it.

And if Harry hadn't just used the toilet, he might have peed himself when Draco Malfoy walked in.  And shut the door behind.  And locked it.

Heart thundering in his ears, Harry pressed against the corner of the bathroom, next to the window, afraid to breathe, much less move again.  As Draco put his washcloth on the vanity and turned on the water, Harry considered just pulling off the Invisibility Cloak, explaining himself as fast as he could, and running out of there before Draco could ask questions.  Still, he didn't budge while Draco brushed his teeth, rinsed, and tapped the toothbrush dry.  As Draco washed his face, Harry considered just making a break for it with the cloak still on, leaving Draco to put two and two together after Harry was already safely out of the room.  But before he could build up the nerve to do it, Draco pulled off his shirt.

Harry's mouth fell open as he got his first good look at Draco's body.  He knew Draco was thin, but unlike Harry's gawky, skinny form, Draco was… elegant.  Instead of being all angles and elbows, even the straightest lines had a softness to them.  His shoulders were broad enough to be distinctly masculine, but they weren't sharp square corners like Harry's.  The small of Draco's back, the curve of his hip… smooth lines, lightly defined muscles.  He was… _damn hot_ , Harry thought to himself.  Unwelcome, the picture of that blond wizard in the magazine filled his mind, with grey eyes gazing at him wickedly, winking at him.  And now that Harry saw Draco standing there in front of him, he knew Hunter didn't hold a candle to this.  Harry felt himself getting hard again, but then, he turned his attention to the mirror, and saw the front of Draco's chest.

A long, thin white line traced from Draco's left collarbone, across his chest, and down the front of his torso to the right.  The scar crossed directly over Draco's heart.  For months, Harry had worked to put the incident out of his mind.  It was easier that way.  But now, he was reminded once again of how close he'd come to killing that night.  Despite the incredible view of Draco's delicately toned pectorals, with their hard nipples standing firm in the cool air, or the play of shadows from his neck to his collarbone, Harry was fixed on the scar that stood out in front of all of it.  Suddenly, a little zig-zag on his forehead didn't seem like such a big deal.

Then, Draco dropped his trousers.

Harry's mind went completely blank as he watched Draco kick his trousers aside, then gracefully wriggle out of his underwear.  He flicked the underwear off with his left foot, and it landed inches from where Harry was standing.  Harry stared at the undergarment for a moment before he looked back up to see Draco observing himself, now completely nude, in the bathroom mirror.

Draco must have decided that he was satisfied with the view, for then he reached into an indulgent stretch, cat-like, first reaching for the ceiling, and then across the vanity, fingers curving like claws.  His back arched, and the cheeks of his arse clenched as he slowly pulled back, running his fingers across the marble countertop.  Every single line of Draco's body was on display – his shoulder blades, with their shadows running down to the curves of his hips, which connected smoothly to the tempting line of his arse.  In the mirror, Harry was no longer distracted by the scar across Draco's torso, which now only looked like a decoration above the deep pink cock that was rapidly coming to life. 

Harry thought he'd never seen anything more… _hot_.  Just fucking hot.  Draco was just standing there, looking himself over casually, wearing a relaxed look that Harry had never seen on him before.  When Draco was simply talking with one of the older Order members, or even when he was just curled up with a book, he always seemed to have an intent look on his face that was just a bit strained.  Or sometimes a hint of his old self-satisfied smirk.  This time… he was just there, relaxed, and…

_God, I want to fuck him._

The thought hit Harry, and an instant later, reality followed.  _I have to get out of here.  Oh shit, I have to get out of here.  Maybe he's going to take a shower.  I mean, why else would he strip?  And as soon as he's in the shower with the water running, I can get out of here, and he'll never notice, and –_

Draco's hand went to his cock.

_Oh FUCK_.

With a contented sigh, Draco wrapped his fingers around his shaft and gave a slow, gentle stroke.  He repeated this a couple of times, then paused and reached into the bottom drawer on the left.  A moment later, he pulled out a small vial of liquid that Harry could only guess was some sort of oil.  Everyone who used the second-floor bathroom kept their own drawer, but Harry's only held toothpaste, mouthwash, his shampoo, and a couple of combs that he'd never used.  He hadn't really wondered what other people kept in their drawers, but now, he had at least one answer.  As Draco poured a few drops of the oily substance onto his right hand, Harry gave up on all thoughts of escaping.  He shifted into a more comfortable position and settled in to watch. 

The vial went back to the countertop, and Draco's hand went to his cock again.  This time, he grasped firmly and gave a hard, decisive stroke.  A shudder went through his body, and he pumped his hand up and down the length of his shaft again.  A few strokes later, his eyes fluttered closed, and his mouth opened slightly.

Harry was sure he'd never seen anything so beautiful in his life.  He didn't even care that it was Draco Malfoy.  This was the most amazing thing he'd ever witnessed.  Draco was slowly wanking off in front of him, and if it weren't for… well… everything, Harry would be extremely eager to join him.  But, seeing as he wasn't going anywhere soon, and nobody could see him…

Harry slowly, carefully pulled down the zipper of his trousers.  He kept checking to see if Draco was showing any signs that he'd noticed something, but the boy was still methodically pumping his cock in a slow, deliberate rhythm.  Harry finally freed his own cock from his pants and grasped it.  He hadn't realized that he was already completely hard; he'd been too busy watching the show.  Pressing his lips together to keep himself silent, he began running his fist up and down his shaft in time to Draco's movements.

Draco was plainly beginning to breathe faster, his shoulders rising and falling visibly with each breath.  His skin had a soft glow from the sweat beginning to come to the surface, and in the mirror, Harry could see the feverish flush in Draco's normally pale cheeks.  Without breaking rhythm, Draco reached out with his left hand and delicately dipped his finger into the vial, coating it with oil.  He rubbed his fingers together, slicking them all, and reached around behind himself.

Now, Draco spread his legs and bent forward just a bit, completely exposing his arse, and the tight little pucker in the middle.  Then, he reached back around with his left hand, and without hesitating, pressed one finger straight into his hole.  The muscles in his legs quivered, but his right hand never stopped pumping his cock.  Harry felt every bit of his insides jump and twitch at the imagined sensation of Draco's finger penetrating his own arse.  When Draco added a second finger, his back arched again, and he hummed deep in his throat.  As he twisted his fingers in his arse, the hum turned into a higher-pitched whine that broke off into a gasp.  All the while, his right hand never stopped stroking.

Harry, on the other hand, had lost the ability to keep a rhythm.  He'd also lost the ability to think, and breathing was becoming questionable.  All he could do was fumble awkwardly with his cock as Draco continued his slow dance with himself in front of the bathroom mirror.  Draco's eyes were open now, and he was watching himself wank.  His face was tipped forward slightly so that his gaze was low and intense, and Harry could only imagine what it would be like to have Draco's body poised over his own, and those eyes staring down at him like that, with smouldering intensity.  And instead of Draco pumping his own erection, he'd have Harry's in his hand.  And those elegant, oil-slicked fingers would be penetrating Harry's arse.  And Draco would be purring his name as he finally slid into him…

" _Harry…_ "

"Hmmm… yes?"

"Are you ever going to take off that infernal Invisibility Cloak and join me, or am I going to have to do it for you?"

"I… _WHAT_?"  Harry blinked and shook his head in disbelief. 

Draco hadn't turned around, and hadn't changed his pose, but instead of looking at himself in the mirror, he was definitely looking back over his shoulder.  Not directly at Harry, but definitely in his direction.  After a moment of receiving no response, Draco sighed and turned around, his naked cock standing fully at attention, now right at Harry. 

Knowing that there was no way out of this now, Harry quickly zipped up his fly – not that it made much of a difference at this point – and let the Invisibility Cloak fall away.  Draco was nodding slowly, looking very pleased with himself.  Harry felt his cheeks burn.  "How… when did you realize that I… er…"

"I knew before I came in," Draco said lightly. 

Harry knew better than to ask how.  "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because this was _far_ more amusing."

Harry swallowed uncomfortably.  "So… you did all this… because you wanted to torment me?"

Draco snorted.  "Merlin, you're naïve."

Harry bristled in irritation.  "What do you want, Malfoy?

This only caused Draco to laugh.  "Isn't it obvious yet?  My intentions are completely straightforward, if not innocent.  Plain and honest."

"That's a trick, coming from you." 

"No trick, Harry."

_That_ caught Harry off-guard.  "What happened to 'Potter'?"

"Well, it seems rather odd for me to keep using surnames with a person who has seen me naked.  And… well… more." 

 The irritation melted into another emotion that Harry couldn't quite identify.  "You wanted me to watch…?"

"Absolutely," Draco said, indicating for Harry to continue.

"Because you wanted… me to see you like this?  Why?"

"Important lesson for you, Harry.  When a man is standing in front of you naked, lubed, and fully erect, usually the simplest answer is the correct one."  He tipped his head forward, and his voice dropped to a low purr.  "Because I want you."

Harry felt his jaw go slack.  "You're kidding me."

"Not hardly."

"Listen, Malfoy –"

"Draco."

" _Malfoy_ ," Harry said firmly.  "We're civil to each other.  We're fighting on the same side at this point, which is great.  But this is just… just…"

"Unexpected?" Draco offered with a smug grin.

"Just plain wrong!"  Harry shook his head to emphasize the point.  "You're you, and I'm me, and –"

"And you're hard as a rock, wanking off underneath an Invisibility Cloak while you watch me doing the same thing only a few feet away."  Draco chuckled at Harry's stunned expression.  "If you were so offended by the idea, then you would have left.  In the very least, you wouldn't have been caught almost literally with your trousers down."

"I'll have you know that I have other venues that I'm pursuing right now."

"You mean your little-ginger-problem-turned-preoccupation?"

"We were having a fine time until you showed up."

Draco laughed again.  "Actually, you were having a fine time until Ron showed up.  I, on the other hand, saw almost all of it."

_Shoot me now._   "Get to the point so I can leave."

Draco shrugged.  "The point is that Double Trouble there wants a toy to experiment with.  On the other hand, I want something more." 

Harry blinked.  "More?"

Draco smiled slyly but didn't answer, then started slowly walking towards Harry.  His cock bobbed merrily with each step, and Harry had to force himself not to stare at it.

"You've been staring at it long enough," Draco said, noticing the direction of Harry's gaze.  He closed the rest of the gap between them.  "Why don't you touch it?"

"I… I can't… I… er…"

"Come on, Harry.  You've been touching yourself for the past ten minutes while watching me.  This isn't much of a step."  He reached down and took Harry's hand in his own, tangling their fingers together.  Gently, he forced Harry to take hold of his erection.  As Draco pulled their hands up and down the length of his shaft, he hummed contentedly.  "Do you like?"

Harry could only nod. 

"Well then, if you like it, what are you going to do about it?"

Still unable to speak, Harry shook his head. 

Draco tipped his head to the side, giving Harry a look that clearly said, _Do we really have to go through this song and dance?_

He had to reply, somehow, so Harry licked his dry lips and coughed nervously.  "I need… before we do anything… I need to know why."

Draco rolled his eyes.  "Why, what?"

"Why… this?"

"Why am I completely starkers, lubed up, and practically throwing myself at you?"

Harry shook his head weakly.  "Why… _me_?  Why now, with this, with me?"

At that, Draco stopped the motion of Harry's hand on his cock, and he pulled his body close against Harry's.  "Because you're the only other wizard around that likes other wizards and doesn't come with a generous helping of freckles and too much immediate family for me to handle."  He said it so seriously that Harry began to pull back, but then Draco's face softened, and he laughed quietly.  "Why do you think?"

"I couldn't begin to guess," Harry said nervously.

"Then," Draco began, as he reached out to Harry's belt buckle, "let me enlighten you."  Pale fingers began to undo the buckle as Draco talked.  "I learned a lot last year.  Stuff I never wanted to know.  I learned that even my own father would sell me out for power, which is how I got stuck with my 'assignment'.  I was nothing more than a pawn – completely expendable.  In contrast, there was you.  I was angry at your position in life.  I was jealous that you were on a side that wouldn't kill you if you fucked up; a side that actually seemed to care what happened to you.  But…"  The buckle came undone.  "I saw that you could have stood on your own two feet, even if you had to do it completely alone."

Harry was so caught up in processing what Draco was saying that he could only partially pay attention to the fact that his fly was once again coming unzipped.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I like strength, Potter.  Harry.  You-with-the-scruffy-hair.  I like people who can stand up to almost anything and not back down.  I saw that in you, even though I hated it at the time.  Whether or not You-Know-Who's side would have killed me, or that Snape told me to come… I think I would have come here anyway.  Not to the Order, Harry, but to you."

"I don't understand.  You just said you hated me."

"Of course.  But as I said, I learned a few things.  Saw a few things.  And then, Snape told me a lot about you."

"I'm sure none of it was favourable," Harry said thickly, even as his breath hitched as cool air reached his warm cock.

"Actually, you might be surprised," Draco continued.  Now, he was starting to tug Harry's trousers down, and he gave an approving nod when Harry wriggled to help him.  "The man thinks you're a spoiled little brat who needed to be subject to the same rules as the rest of the population of Hogwarts, but he also knows what you've been through.  You've survived shit that would have killed people three times your age.  You're not perfect, Harry, but you've got something to you.  Even Snape saw it.  And… he said that in the end… you had the strength to be the last man standing."

The world beyond Draco's face was becoming fuzzy, and the air felt a bit too warm.  "So… you want me because…?"

This time, Draco's smile actually turned just a bit shy.  "I've wanted to say this for months now.  I've almost been planning it.  It feels strange to actually be saying it _to_ you."  He coughed, then brought his chin up to face Harry directly.  "It's because there's something very attractive about power – and you have it.  Strength is even more rare, and you have that, too.  And now that I've had the chance to look from another angle, there's just something very attractive about you."  He leaned in close so that his lips were almost touching Harry's.  "And if you're the last man standing, then I'd like to be standing next to you when that happens."

Harry didn't even have a moment to think before Draco's lips caught his, and he found responding to be easier than he'd thought possible.  He reached his hands around Draco's back, and his fingers traced the smooth skin along shoulders, backbone, and hips.  He remembered the view of Draco's arse, spread wide in front of him, and he didn't even think as he let his fingers dip lower.  Draco's crevice was still slick from the oil he'd used, and as Harry's fingers grazed over his entrance, one of them just barely breached the tight ring of muscle there.  He was instantly rewarded with a gasp from Draco, who arched his back briefly before pushing back against Harry's hand.

Draco was tight, and hot, and Harry pressed in a little bit deeper.  He'd certainly never done this to someone else before, but Draco seemed to love it.  When he wiggled his finger around, Draco made a low, contented humming sound, and Harry suddenly wished their roles were reversed.  He pulled back his lips from Draco's, licked them, and opened his mouth to speak, but the words, _"Draco, would you please put your finger in my arse?_ " just wouldn't come out. 

However, Draco looked at him with a devilish grin.  "What do you want, Harry?"

"I… I can't say…"

"Yes, you can."

Draco's expression softened, and he leaned in so that his cheek was barely brushing against Harry's.  "Come on, Harry.  With everything else you've done in your life, you'd think that this would be positively easy."

Harry closed his eyes and grit his teeth.  "Nothing is ever easy."

"All you have to do is ask for what you want."

"I never get what I want."

"Well, it's time to change that, isn't it?"  With that, Draco reached down and brushed his fingers across the bulge in the front of Harry's underwear.  Harry shuddered and tried to push forward into Draco's hand.  Draco seemed to take this as an invitation, and with torturously slow movements, he pulled Harry's underwear down to his knees.

Now, Harry was totally exposed, with his trousers around his ankles, his underwear around his knees, and his cock practically twitching in desperation.  Much to Harry's dismay, Draco actually took a step back, and admired appreciatively.  "I'm impressed, Harry.  I had high expectations, and you've certainly managed to rise to the occasion."

Harry groaned.  "I didn't think bad puns were your style," he said as the underwear dropped the rest of the way down his legs.

"They're usually not," Draco admitted, chuckling, "but the opportunity was there."  He leaned over and pulled at Harry's trousers, indicating for him to step out of the offending clothing. 

Harry complied, which left him wearing nothing but an old t-shirt and his plain white socks.  He began to think he'd feel less self-conscious if he were completely naked.

Draco, however, seemed to approve.  Again, the grin became devilish, and almost predatory.  "And speaking of opportunities…"

In a heartbeat, Draco had smoothly dropped to his knees, wrapped his hand around the base of Harry's cock, and latched his mouth onto the end of it.  And _sucked_.

Harry's knees nearly gave out, and he had to lean back against the wall for support as the onslaught of sensation hit him.  Draco ran his lips up and down the end of Harry's shaft, while his tongue took turns swirling around the head, pressing at the slit, and tracing the groove beneath the head.  His hand wasn't inactive either, and gently pumped and squeezed in time to the incredible things his mouth was doing.  In the meantime, Draco's other hand came up to stroke his balls once, roll them around a bit, and then reach back behind his sack to press up against the perineum. 

Gasping and panting, Harry could feel the familiar pressure building up, when suddenly, Draco stopped.  Harry nearly collapsed, and cried out.  " _What_?!?  Wait!  No… please… please don't stop… please…"

Draco got back to his feet, smirking.  "You don't think I was going to let you get off without bringing me along for the ride, do you?"  To make his point, he pressed up against Harry, his cock brushing along Harry's. 

Harry whimpered.  

"What do you want, Harry?"

"I… er… I don't know… I –"

"Do you want to fuck me?"

In his mind, Harry saw Draco's arse fully exposed, with Draco's fingers pressing in and out, over and over again.  "I…"

"Or do you want me to fuck you?"

Harry's eyes went wide.  He had no idea what that would be like, but his cock seemed to think it was a good idea.  While he was struggling to find his voice, Draco's hands found his balls again and began playfully rolling them around.  One of those hands began sneaking backwards towards Harry's hole, wiggling and pressing as it moved.  Harry thought he was going to die.  "I… I want… oh god, Draco, I don't know what I waa-aaa-aaaaaah –"

The hand still on Harry's balls suddenly tugged downwards, stopping the climax before it even hit.  Draco was nose to nose with him, looking him in the eyes with distinct amusement.  "What did I say, Harry?  It just wouldn't be fair for you to get to come without me."

"You're going to kill me if you keep this up!" Harry blurted out, panting.

"No, I wouldn't want that."  He leaned in again, this time seizing Harry's lower lip with his teeth.  He pulled back again, releasing Harry's lip as he moved.  "But if you don't know what you want… maybe you need some time to figure it out."

"What?  No!  I mean, I know what I want!  I just –"

"Don't know how to ask for what you want?"

Harry bit his own lower lip and nodded, feeling very stupid.

"Have you really never had sex before, Harry?"

Too embarrassed to say it out loud – and just a bit too breathless – Harry nodded.

"Top _or_ bottom?"

"I… no, okay?  No, I've never done this!"

Draco seemed to ponder this for a moment, and then, to Harry's dismay, he pulled back.  Immediately he began picking up the clothes that had been strewn around the bathroom.

"Draco… what are you doing?"

"Giving you time to decide what you want," he said simply as he put his shirt on top of his trousers over his left arm.

" _What_?"

"You're saying that word a lot today," Draco said as he picked up Harry's trousers and added them to the pile draped over his left arm.  "I figure," Draco continued, "that I need to let you consider this a bit.  And… if this is your first time, I'd say you deserve better than a cold bathroom floor."

"But… but… but what are…?"

"So eloquent, Harry."  With that, he picked up the last piece of cloth from the floor – Harry's Invisibility Cloak – and moved over to Harry again, leaning his face in close to Harry's.  "Meet me in my room in a half hour," he said softly.  "And… if you don't know what you want by then, don't worry, I'll help you."  With that, he took a couple of steps back, looking at Harry seductively.

"Wait a minute!  You're not going to –"

There was a sudden pop, and Draco was gone.  Harry stood staring at the now-vacant centre of the room where Draco had been standing a moment before.  Miserable, he looked down at his desperately aching cock, then up at his reflection in the mirror.  He looked totally debauched.  His glasses were sitting on his nose at an angle, his hair was even messier than before, and Draco was gone.  With the Invisibility Cloak.  And Harry's trousers.  And... _the little fucker even took my underwear._

If nothing else, Draco had certainly ensured that Harry would be showing up in his room.  That was, if he ever got out of the bathroom.  _Draco was right.  I should have taken more Apparition lessons._  

Resigned to the fact that he had to make it down the hallway, up the stairs, and to his bedroom, Harry could only hope that he wouldn't be seen in the process.  Especially because his cock was still standing up like a signpost in the desert.  There were no towels; Dobby was too damn efficient at picking up after everyone.  No bathrobes.  The only remaining piece of cloth in the room was… the bathmat.

A moment later, with the bathmat wrapped around his waist, Harry carefully peeked around the edge of the bathroom door.  The coast was clear.  He took a deep breath and bolted, but halfway up the stairs, he was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Oh, Harry!  You came out of your room!"

Harry cringed, and turned around to see Luna standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding her toothbrush and towel.  "Er… hi, Luna."

"See, I told them that you'd be perfectly fine.  You're far more resilient than most people give you credit for."

"Thanks, Luna.  Can I go back to my room now?"

"Oh, okay, Harry," she said, but then she frowned.  "Harry, why are you wearing the bathmat?  Only the Ignarian tribe of eastern Botswana wears bathmats, and then only for ritualistic mating – oh!  You've been studying Ignarian culture!  And that means you must be preparing for –"

"Yes, Luna.  Whatever you're about to say, _yes_.  Now, I've got to go.  Goodnight!"

"Goodnight, Harry!"

Harry could hear Luna humming merrily to herself until he got to his room and closed the door behind.  Immediately, he dropped the bath mat and looked down at his cock, which, to his amazement, was still partially hard. "You got me into this mess, you know."

Naturally, the only response he got was a revived urgency to get his arse over to Draco's room and find out just what might be in store. 

*********

 

A full half hour had certainly not passed by the time Harry showed up at Draco's door.  In that time, while he desperately tried to ignore the possibility of wanking to get some relief, he'd tried to decide what he wanted.  He'd even returned to his favourite educational stories for assistance.  The only problem was that everything seemed good.  He could only hope that inspiration would take over when he opened the door.  And if inspiration wouldn't take over, he was sure Draco would. 

For the first time since the room arrangements had been set, Harry found himself grateful that Draco had the only other room on the third floor.  That meant he could stand there and deliberate for a moment longer before knocking.  Or at least, deliberate as long as his desperate cock could go without attention and some relief.  Maybe he'd come in and rip his shirt right off.  Maybe he'd act seductive.  Or shy.  Or maybe he'd take the predatory role.  Or…

_Click_.  The door opened, and Draco was standing there, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, looking amused.  "Are you going to stand out there all night?"

Before Harry could answer, Draco grabbed him by the shirt, pulled him into the room, and shut the door.  The next thing Harry knew, Draco had spun him around and was gently manoeuvring him towards the bed as he determinedly crushed Harry's lips with his.  Harry's mind reeled under the onslaught, and within seconds, the backs of his legs hit the edge of the bed.  His eyes went wide as Draco tipped him over backwards onto the duvet, not once taking his lips off of Harry's face. 

Harry's determination not to be swept away quickly vanished as Draco began unbuckling his belt, leaning down every few seconds to latch his mouth onto Harry's neck with voracity.  The belt soon came undone, and Draco pulled it out of the belt loops in one smooth movement.  He went to work on Harry's trousers now, grinning down at Harry as he did so.  "All the work I did before, and I have to unwrap the package twice?  And I'd figured that taking your trousers and underwear would be a hint."

"It was a bit cold in the house," Harry said, trying not to gasp as Draco gave his trousers a sharp tug.  He tilted his hips up off the bed to let Draco finish removing the offending garment, which was tossed lazily over the side of the bed.

Draco nodded in approval, and an instant later and pulled down Harry's underwear, too, which were sent the same way as the trousers.  Harry was still almost fully erect, and Draco traced his finger lightly along the underside of the shaft.  Harry whimpered, which seemed to please Draco even more.  "It seems that the cold weather didn't affect you too badly."  He leaned down and licked the head of Harry's cock, ever so gently.

Harry squirmed, and once again, Draco wrapped his mouth around the head of Harry's prick, leaving Harry quite dazed.  A moment later, he pulled away again.

It took a moment for Harry's brain to catch up with his body.  "Wait, hold on, Draco."

"Okay," Draco said, and promptly grabbed Harry's cock. 

"That's not what I meant!" Harry said, panting.

"Well, Harry," Draco purred, "I need to know what you mean."  Not taking his hand off of Harry's cock, Draco lay down alongside Harry so that his face was inches from Harry's.  "And I still need to know what you want."

With his brain on hiatus, Harry could only say the first thing that came to mind.  "I want to do whatever you want me to do."

Draco leaned in just a bit closer.  "Excellent.  And I… want you to fuck me so hard that I'll feel your cock in my throat."

Harry was still trying to process this as Draco released his cock and rolled away from him.  A second later, Harry felt a small tube being pressed into his hand, and Draco's breath in his ear.  "Come on, Harry.  It's easy.  Just like in those magazines."

Harry balked.  "You know about the magazines?"

Draco gave a sly grin and sat up.  "I saw the delivery owl.  Same as the one that brings my subscription.  But there was a second magazine.  I didn't know it was yours, but given the evidence, I hazarded a guess.  And –"

"And I just confirmed it," Harry said with a barely suppressed groan.  "Great."

"Well, I think the magazines are great.  Obviously.  I've had a subscription ever since fifth year."

Harry blinked and sat up to face Draco.  "But… you have to be seventeen to subscribe!"

Draco shrugged, then grabbed the hem of Harry's shirt.  Harry obliged by lifting up his arms, and a moment later, he was completely naked.

"How did you get a subscription if you weren't seventeen?"

Draco merely grinned, dropped the shirt on the floor, and laid back onto the bed.  He slowly removed his underwear, and dropped them over the edge of the bed as well.  Then, he stretched languidly and spread his legs.  "What Draco wants, Draco gets.  And didn't I just say I wanted you to fuck me?"

Harry looked at Draco, then down at the tube in his hand.  When he looked back up, Draco had reached down and was already beginning to stroke his cock.  Harry swallowed thickly.  This was it.  He crawled over to Draco and firmly removed Draco's hand from his prick, and replaced it with his own hand.

The delighted look on Draco's face immediately turned into a moan of pleasure as Harry gave him a firm stroke, then another.  Harry was so busy watching the expressions on Draco's face that he hadn't noticed Draco's hand sneaking out until it was on his own erection.

Harry gasped as Draco began mirroring the motions that Harry was making, which caused him to falter. 

"Mmm, Harry… that tube I gave you… give it to me for a moment."  Dazed, Harry quickly handed over the tube. 

Draco released his cock long enough to squeeze out a fair amount of lubricant into his hand, then looked up at Harry with hooded eyes.  "Straddle my legs, Harry.  Yes, that's it.  Now, lean down, just a bit."

Harry leaned down so that his cock was hovering just inches above Draco's.  He watched, transfixed, as Draco rubbed the lube on the palms of his hands, then suddenly grabbed both of their erections, pressing them together.  He began stroking in earnest, pumping both of their cocks together as if they were one.

Harry tipped forward onto all fours, with his hands on either side of Draco's face.  His mouth was inches away from Draco's, and an instant later, Draco had lunged up and seized Harry's mouth with his.  It was all Harry could do not to collapse on Draco has their cocks pressed against each other's, both at the mercy of Draco's hands.  Very quickly, Harry began thrusting into Draco's hands, almost blind with the sensation of it all, but before it could go too far, Draco released Harry's lips and whispered, "Now take a bit of the lube, and stretch me."  He nipped Harry's lower lip once more before letting his head fall back and shifting his hips.  Harry sat up, ignoring the blissful dizziness that came with the motion, and slid back to be able to see Draco's exposed entrance.

To Harry, it seemed that it wasn't his own hands unscrewing the cap on the tube of lubricant, or his fingers becoming coated with the slick substance.  He felt strangely disconnected as he sat back and looked at Draco. 

Draco spread his legs a bit more and reached down past his balls to lightly finger his own arse.  "Come on, Harry.  You've already put your finger there once."

_But that hadn't been intentional_ , Harry thought desperately.  _I was just feeling… and my finger slipped… and… oh hell, it was fucking awesome._  

Tentatively, he reached out and stroked around the tight ring of muscle that was begging for attention.  Draco's legs quivered, and he gave Harry a sharp look.  Knowing that this was no longer the time to hesitate, Harry rested the tip of his finger against Draco's hole and, with one smooth movement, he sunk in finger as far as it could go.

Draco moaned deep in his throat and pressed down, trying to get more of Harry's finger inside him.  Harry almost felt drunk at the sight of Draco's flushed face, his shivering stomach, and his entrance clenching and sucking at Harry's finger like a tiny mouth.  Tentatively, Harry began twisting his finger around, pressing against the muscle, coaxing it to relax.  After a moment, Draco's trembling seemed to calm somewhat.  Carefully, Harry partially withdrew the one finger, pressed the second finger alongside it, and then pushed them back in together.  Draco practically mewled. 

Feeling a bit more confident now, Harry began to work his fingers in Draco's arse, relishing the way he squirmed under the attentions, and how his face screwed up in such intense expressions.  When Harry finally hooked his fingers around and found the small bump that could only be the prostate, Draco actually yelped. 

"Did I hurt you?" Harry asked in a hurry, preparing to pull back immediately if he needed to.

Draco's head came up in a flash, his eyes wide.  "No, you didn't bloody hurt me, but if you don't do that again, I'll be happy to hurt you!"

Harry flushed with pleasure and quickly hooked his fingers again, more firmly this time.  In response, Draco made a high-pitched sound in his throat and he gripped the duvet on either side of him, twisting the fabric in his fists.  Delighted to see Draco starting to lose control, Harry continued to rub the little bump from the inside with his two fingers, and from the outside, began to press up against the perineum with his thumb.  The effect was instantaneous.  Draco's mouth opened wide, and he began panting as if the air itself had become scarce. 

"Harry…" he gasped.

"Yes?" Harry asked lightly.

"If you… if you keep…"

Seizing the moment, Harry leaned down and licked the head of Draco's cock, just as Draco had done to him earlier. 

Whimpering, Draco finally managed to finish his sentence.  "If you keep this up, then… then… Harry, _stop_."

In a heartbeat, Harry's fingers stopped moving.  He frowned.  "But… why?"

Draco carefully propped himself up on his elbows to look at Harry.  "Because… I want to come with you inside me."

This time, Harry's mouth fell open, and he slowly pulled his fingers out of Draco's arse.  Draco's breathing was slowly returning to normal, he seemed to be regaining some control. 

"You really want me to do this?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Draco's eyes nearly bugged out.  "For the love of all things sexual and perverted, YES, I want you to do this!"

"How do you want me to –"

Draco sat up, which brought his face directly up to Harry's.  At first, Harry wasn't sure if Draco was going to kiss him, or lecture him, but he certainly found himself surprised when Draco gently took him by the shoulders and pulled him close.  As Draco lay back down, Harry found himself guided into position above him.  And just to reinforce that there was no going back – not that Harry could have done so if he'd wanted to – Draco pinned Harry's calves with his legs.

Slowly, Draco reached down and took Harry's cock in his hand, while tilting his own hips to give Harry a better angle.  Draco's other hand reached around Harry's back and gently pulled Harry towards him.  When the head of Harry's cock finally touched Draco's arse, they both shuddered in unison. 

Harry gave a shallow, tentative thrust, and felt the incredible sensation of Draco's body yielding to him.  Beneath him, Draco's chin tipped upwards and his eyes closed, obviously savouring the sensation.  A bit more confident now, Harry took a deep breath and let himself slowly drop down, sinking into Draco. 

He felt Draco's body wrap around him, enveloping him in heat.  It was tighter than he'd imagined; better than he'd imagined.  And watching the flush on Draco's cheeks, feeling the heat rising from his chest – nothing he'd ever dreamt could compare with this, especially when he felt his balls press up against Draco's thighs as his shaft settled as deep as it could go. 

Draco's eyes opened, and he whispered softly, " _Move!_ "

His breath seemed to be pulled away from his body as he drew back, and it returned to him as he thrust back in, a bit faster this time, but not much.  He pulled back again, but this time, as he started to move forward again, Draco's legs wrapped around the backs of Harry's thighs, and _pulled_.  Harry slammed into Draco so hard he was certain he must have hurt him, especially when Draco cried out, but the look on Draco's face was anything but pained. 

Even more excited, Harry began to move again, but as he did, he felt Draco's fingers grazing the skin across the back of his arse.  Slick fingers, parting his arse cheeks, caressing along his crack, and finally, one slender finger pressing into his entrance.  Harry's back arched in reaction to the new sensation, causing him to drive even deeper into Draco. 

Draco gasped, then gave him a pleased sort of grin.  He wiggled the first finger around for a moment before adding a second one.  The slip of the lube-coated fingers sent tingling sensations through to the pit of his stomach, and straight through his cock.  After a moment, much to Harry's dismay, Draco pulled his fingers out.  "You'll like this," he said softly. 

Harry barely had the cognisance to realize that Draco was retrieving something from underneath his pillow with his free hand until that hand had already reached back around behind Harry's arse. 

"Hey, what –"  Harry tried to look around over his shoulder, but Draco shook his head.

"No, Harry.  Just look at me." 

In the next instant, Harry felt something cool and blunt pressing against his entrance.  His eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped.  "Draco, wait, are you sure –"

Words escaped him as the object penetrated the outer ring of muscle.  It kept coming, sinking in deeper and deeper in one smooth motion until the muscles clenched tight around a narrower spot, and the plug was seated firmly in his arse.  He could feel it pressing at his insides, and then Draco twisted it.  It grazed just the right spot, and Harry nearly collapsed.

Draco chuckled breathlessly.  "Don't stop now."

The last thing on Harry's mind was stopping.  Between the plug in his arse, and the hot muscles squeezing his cock with every movement, Harry could feel the pressure slowly beginning to build.  Bracing his arms, he thrust into Draco again, only this time, when he moved, the plug moved inside him, grazing past his prostate, pressing deeper.  As he continued to move, Draco took his right hand and guided it down to grasp Draco's unattended cock.  Harry wrapped his hand around Draco's shaft, and as he thrust, he stroked downwards against the momentum. 

It seemed to be exactly what Draco needed.  After only a few strokes, Draco began gasping and blabbering.  "Oh my… mmm… oh god… Harry… just… a little bit…"

Harry angled his hips up again and pushed as deep as he could go.  An instant later, Draco's body went rigid beneath his, and his eyes squeezed shut as his orgasm took him.  His arse clenched tight around Harry's cock, and with two more strokes, Harry felt everything dissolve in white heat.  He clung to Draco, holding himself as far inside him as he could until the world came back into focus.

Draco's cheeks were red, and his chest sweaty.  Harry suspected he looked very much the same.  Unable to hold himself up anymore, he carefully pulled out, causing Draco to whimper softly, and then let himself collapse on his exhausted partner.

To Harry's pleasure and surprise, Draco actually wrapped his arms around Harry's back and held him close.  "That was fucking amazing," Draco mumbled, still a bit out of breath.

"Oh yeah," Harry said in a rush, still trying to catch his own breath.

Draco smiled coyly, then reached one hand down and pried the plug out of Harry's arse. It felt like an aftershock of the orgasm, and if Harry hadn't already been reduced to a boneless heap lying on top of Draco's chest, he would have collapsed again. As it was, he yelped. Draco merely laughed, then brought his other hand up to tangle his fingers in Harry's hair, and pulled him down for a swift kiss. "So, what did you think?"

"I think… I think I'm at least ready to admit I'm playing for the other team now."

Draco actually laughed at this.  "As long as you're playing for my team."

"What about you?" Harry asked. "I mean… I'm sure you've had other experiences, but –"

"No."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.  "No, what?"

"I mean, no, I haven't had other experiences.  At least, not like this."

"But… but…"  Harry blinked a couple of times.  He couldn't be hearing this.  "Do you mean you're… you're a –"

"A virgin?"  Draco grinned with satisfaction.  "Why, Harry?  Didn't think a bloke like me could keep his virtue for a few years?  I never appreciated the girls, and if my father had caught me with a bloke, he would have killed me.  Not a problem anymore, though."

"But you seem so…"

"Experienced?  I've just been a bit more creative with my wanking than you, I'll bet."  He tipped his chin up and traced Harry's earlobe with his tongue.  "Besides, you're obviously a quick learner."

Harry looked down at Draco, utterly astonished.  "So then… what does this mean… for us?  Or am I getting too far ahead of myself?"

For the second time that night, Draco actually looked a bit shy.  "I told you… I wanted _you_.  That's not about to change.  _Especially_ after a fantastic fuck like that."

Harry felt himself blush furiously, then something else occurred to him.  "What about the twins?  I mean, what am I going to tell Fred and George?"

That question actually seemed to please Draco.  "Tell them the same thing I told them earlier.  That you're _mine_ , and if they want a piece of this –" He grabbed Harry's arse for emphasis.  "– then they're going to have to go through me first.  That is, if you like the sound of that."

Just the very idea of that sort of connection was enough to make Harry feel drunk from head to toe.  "Oh yes.  I like the sound of that," Harry breathed. 

Draco grinned and lazily ran his fingers along Harry's spine.  "Of course, if you decide to get playful, we could always invite them up here for a foursome."

Harry balked.  "You're… you're kidding, right?  I mean, you said you can't stand freckles… or ginger hair…"

Draco tipped his head in a shrug.  "Actually, the twins seem a bit more strawberry blond…"

Harry could only stare at Draco in open-mouthed astonishment.  Draco maintained a straight face for a few more seconds before breaking down into laughter.  "Don't worry about that, Harry.  For now… get some sleep."  He reached down and pulled the duvet – which had almost been pushed completely off the bed – up and over both of their bodies. 

"You want me to sleep in here?  But what will –"  He was interrupted by a yawn.

Draco laughed again, softer this time.  "Absolutely.  Besides, it's cold out there."

"Well, that's true," Harry said, and he snuggled down deeper beneath the covers.  "But in the morning, what will people say?"

Draco appeared thoughtful for a moment before leaning in to give Harry a chaste kiss on the lips.  "I don't care what they say, if you don't care."

"And what if you change your mind?"

"I've already told you, Harry.  I knew what I wanted ages ago.  I realized it was you months ago.  And I made up my mind weeks ago.  Tonight… was just a confirmation.  Now… sleep."  He kissed Harry again, but this time, he caught Harry's lower lip in his teeth for a moment before letting go.  "But maybe not too deeply."

"Mmm… sounds like fun… but you sleep, too."

"Aaah, I will.  The storm is breaking, so we're going to have a ton to do tomorrow, I'm sure." 

"Yeah… need to start searching again.  So tired…"

"Leave it to you to fall asleep right after sex."

"Hey, I've barely slept in days, and –"

"It's okay, Harry.  Just rest for now.  We have plenty of time."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but another yawn took him, and he quickly forgot what he was going to say.  Sleep was descending on him like a heavy blanket, pulling him down, and he didn't have the energy left to fight it.  Tucking tight against the warm body next to his, Harry slowly drifted off.

Outside of Twelve Grimmauld Place, the sleet had stopped, and a sharp wind was sweeping away the last of the storm clouds.  Tomorrow, the fight would resume, and once again, Harry would have to go out into the thick of it.  There was a new lead to follow, and another battle waiting.  But for now, the storm was over, and Harry was warm for the first time since the start of the winter.

 

*********

~FIN~

 


End file.
